


Barnes Blooms

by bleuett, fadefilter



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Bucky Barnes Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Fluff, Florist Bucky Barnes, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Recovery, Sexual Content, Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 50,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27350629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleuett/pseuds/bleuett, https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadefilter/pseuds/fadefilter
Summary: Bucky smiled and shrugged. “People deserve to have the things that make them happy, especially plants.”You make me happy, Steve thought. “And what about you?” He blurted. “Do you have the things that make you happy?”Bucky Barnes is the heart ofBarnes Blooms, a flower and plant shop. He’s gentle and kind and smiles at Steve in a way that makes Barnes Blooms feel like home, so of course Steve keeps finding excuses to visit the little shop.But Bucky has his own secrets and Steve, recently de-iced and awake in a new century, has his own fight to win.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 85
Kudos: 375
Collections: Not Another Stucky Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow okay so here's the longest fic I've ever written and my contribution to the 2020 (Not) Another Stucky Big Bang! This fic absolutely would not be possible without [ella](https://twitter.com/softstevie), who's been the absolute best beta, thank you for being there to bounce ideas off of and your endless support!
> 
> And of course, thank you to my artist [fadefilter](https://twitter.com/fadefilter), for the absolutely gorgeous art and creating visuals that really encompass the feel of this fic and bring it to life! It was lovely collaborating with you!
> 
> Updates will be every Tuesday and Friday! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Steve was not a fan of attending benefit galas that required him to dress up and mingle around with potential benefactors. Most of the attendees were rich individuals who probably didn’t care about veterans, but just saw this as an opportunity to spend time with the avengers, mainly Steve. They all looked at him like he was a piece of meat, men and women alike putting their hands on his arms and standing too close. It made him feel claustrophobic, all these people wanting a piece of _Captain America_. But this gala was raising money for the Veteran’s Association and so Steve tolerated his too tight suit and put on fake smiles and pretended he wasn’t crawling out of his skin. 

“Tell me, Captain,” a man in a dark blue tuxedo said, “any love interests in your life lately?”

“Uh, no, not currently,” Steve replied, trying to loosen the bowtie around his neck surreptitiously.

The man smiled and stepped closer, holding a champagne glass in one hand and placing the other at the small of Steve’s back. “That’s a shame, you are a fine specimen Captain Rogers.” The man looked at him, eyelids lowered.

Unease filtered through Steve, the hand at his back felt like a brand on his skin and he took a step back, dislodging it abruptly. “That’s kind of you. I just remembered I have to check on something,” he said disjointedly to the man before turning his back and walking away.

He weaved through the crowd of people in fancy dresses and suits, hunching in on himself to try to make himself smaller and unseen. The hall was large and unfamiliar, but Steve felt too hot and too tight with the beginnings of a panic attack and so he opened the first door he saw and entered, closing the door behind him.

He leaned back against the door, eyes closed, and ripped off the offending bowtie, taking a minute to breathe deeply. _You’re okay,_ he thought, _what a stupid thing to have a panic attack about._ The man hadn’t even done anything, just touched him. But Steve hated that, hated people who looked at him and just saw Captain America and felt that they had the right to touch him. A living piece of American History. _You don’t belong to yourself, your body doesn’t even belong to you._

Steve sighed, no point in going down that train of thought. He opened his eyes, taking his first look at the room he was in. It was a large dining room, filled with round tables covered in dark blue square tablecloths. There was a man in the room with him, though he had on a pair of light pink headphones and hadn’t seemed to notice Steve. He was arranging soft pink and white flowers in white ceramic vases for the table centerpieces. He was shorter than Steve, wearing light washed jeans and a grey, cable knit sweater with a powder blue apron on top. He was handsome and Steve’s eyes caught on the pastel blue scrunchie holding his hair in a bun at the back of his head, though it wasn’t doing a very good job as there were wisps of brown hair surrounding the man’s face. 

Steve couldn’t stop staring.

The man looked up suddenly, and lowered his headphones around his neck. “Hello,” he said. His voice was deep but soft, gravelly.

“Um, hi,” Steve said sheepishly, “sorry to interrupt.”

“No worries,” the man replied, “How’s the party?”

Steve cringed and the distaste must have shown clearly on his face because the man chuckled softly. “Too many people and too much talking, right?”

Steve nodded.

“Well, you’re welcome to stay here if you want some quiet, I’m just working on the centerpieces.”

“Thank you,” Steve said, watching the way the man’s glove covered hands gently oriented delicate flowers in the vase. “I’m Steve.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve. I’m Bucky.” He didn’t make the comment Steve was so used to from people, didn’t say ‘I know’, didn’t make a single acknowledgement that he knew who Steve was or that he cared. It was refreshing beyond relief to be a stranger to someone.

“Are you a florist?” Steve asked.

Bucky placed the vase at the centre of the table and tucked a loose wisp of hair behind his ear. “I am, I own a flower and plant shop.”

“Is it just you?” Steve asked, looking at all the flowers that still had to be arranged before the gala’s dinner.

“I usually have an assistant, but they couldn’t make it today.” 

“Do you, um, need any help?” 

Bucky looked surprised at that and gave a small smile. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from all the fun out there,” he teased. 

Steve found himself matching Bucky’s smile. “I’d rather be here. Let me help? I don’t know anything about flowers but I can do the heavy lifting for you.”

“Alright, could you place one of these at every table, please?” Bucky said pointing to a large cardboard box filled with the white ceramic vases. 

“Yes,” Steve said, and hastily shoved his bowtie inside his pants pocket, giddy at the prospect of doing something with his hands and having an excuse not to go back to the party. 

As he passed Bucky to grab the box of vases, he caught the scent of, strangely, citrus, like a freshly peeled orange, not flowers like he’d expected. It smelled so good and Steve promised himself he would stop using the body wash and shampoo he had that smelled artificial and find something that smelled fresh and natural. The repetitive process of placing vases on tables was soothing and Steve felt so calmed by Bucky’s presence as he artfully placed flowers in the vases Steve put down. When he’d placed the last vase, Steve found himself fidgeting with his idle hands, sad that he would have to go soon when the catering staff would come in to get the cutlery and food ready.

“Thanks for helping, Steve,” Bucky said.

They were standing close, less than a meter separating them with Bucky’s profile to him as he placed flowers in the last vase.

Steve found himself entranced by the way Bucky’s hand gently caressed a white flower petal, so gentle despite the size of his hands. “It’s not a problem,” he replied.

Bucky glanced at the door Steve had entered from. “You best go back soon.”

Steve nodded. This close he could see that Bucky’s blue scrunchie was decorated with small white daisies and his hands itched with the urge to put Bucky’s image to paper. 

“Right,” he said, hesitant to leave, “it was nice meeting you, Bucky.”

“You too, Steve,” Bucky murmured, and Steve hightailed it out of the dining room before he did something stupid.

Returning to the loud party with its flashy colours and crowded people was such a juxtaposition to the peaceful silence of being in Bucky’s company and Steve cringed. Natasha found him as soon as he returned, though.

“Where’d you go?” She asked.

“Just needed some air,” Steve said, gaze heading towards the dining hall where Bucky was.

“Hm,” was all the response she gave but she didn’t say anything further and Steve was thankful.

During the dinner Steve couldn’t stop looking at the flowers at the centerpiece of his table and thinking of Bucky and his gentle demeanor and the kindness he’d shown Steve by way of ignorance. 

“Didn’t take you for a flower guy,” Natasha said from beside him.

Steve tore his gaze away from the flowers, feeling his neck heat up. “They’re nice.”

“They’re from Pepper’s favourite florist.”

“Uh huh,” Steve replied.

“I think the place is called Barnes Blooms or something,” Natasha said.

She knew him too well and it was so obvious what she was doing, but Steve refused to give her any sign that he knew what she was talking about or that he cared.

Steve shrugged, and didn’t grace her with an answer, simply returned to his meal.

 _Barnes Blooms,_ Steve thought, _Bucky Barnes._

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Steve tried his best to forget about florist Bucky Barnes. He did what he usually did and tried his best to keep his mind occupied. He went on missions and runs and hung out with Natasha and went to little hipster coffee shops where no one recognized him.

It was quite honestly, a boring life. No matter how exciting and fun people made the future seem to be, Steve just couldn’t get used to it. Sure, he appreciated the advancements in medicine and technology, but it was lonely. He’d been abruptly dropped into this century and he missed the things and the people he used to know. The Howling Commandos, Peggy, his mother.

Nothing was the same anymore, and Steve felt a homesickness like no other. His days were spent roaming a New York that was so different than he was used to, surrounded by people who only wanted Captain America. A public figure whose personality was determined by PR staff and the expectations of the public.

Steve Rogers was buried beneath all that.

* * *

When the day of his mother’s birthday arrived, Steve found himself googling _Barnes Blooms_. He would be visiting Sarah’s grave today, and nothing but the best flowers would do. The website was simplistic and it soothed Steve to see it. So many websites were filled with buttons and words and pictures, which was just too overwhelming. 

The website was white, _Barnes Blooms_ written in a simple and easy to read font up top in green, with a simple branch of leaves above the words. There were five tabs below: _flowers, plants, gifts, subscriptions,_ and _contact us._ Below that was a large picture of a purple, pink and blue bouquet, with the words _shop our seasonal flowers for any occasion._

Steve clicked on the _contact us_ tab, and google mapped the location of the shop. He checked the time, 2:15 pm. The shop was a fifteen minute ride from his apartment so he may as well head out now. He grabbed his keys, wallet and headed down to the garage. He buckled on his helmet, more for anonymity while he was driving and less for safety, and made his way onto the New York streets.

As he got closer to the shop, his heart rate rose, both nervous and excited at the prospect of seeing Bucky. _Maybe he’s not even working today,_ Steve thought, there was no need to get his hopes up. 

He parked his motorcycle in front of the shop which had an all glass front with a display of different flowers and plants. After storing his helmet away, he wiped his hands on his thighs before opening the door to the shop, which made a soft bell noise.

The inside was slightly humid but smelled of flowers and soil. It was filled with display cases and shelves hosting plants, flowers, pots and a wide array of decorative items and knicknacks. Steve had to wind around a few plants and displays before he found the front desk.

Immediately he felt a mixture of nervousness and excitement because there was Bucky standing behind the counter and arranging what to Steve looked like dry leaves in a pot. He must have heard the door jingle because before Steve could even say anything Bucky looked up and gave a small smile.

“Hello, Steve, nice to see you again,” he said, “anything I can help you with today?”

Steve couldn’t help but smile back, something genuine and not like the fake smiles he gave almost everyone else. “Hi Bucky, a friend told me about your shop, I hope you don’t mind.”

Bucky moved from behind the counter and stood in front of it, casually leaning back. Steve watched, enraptured, as Bucky tucked a stray curl of hair behind his ear.

“Not at all, are you here to buy something?”

“Flowers?”

Bucky nodded. “Sure, any occasion in particular? Or flowers that you’d like?”

“It’s my mother’s birthday,” Steve said, and fondly remembered the one time he’d been able to save up a few coins and buy her a wilting bouquet that had been on sale. Despite its dying flowers and mismatched colours, his mother had genuinely loved the bouquet and put in a glass cup until the flowers had dried up. 

Now Steve could afford the nicest flowers. “I’m not sure what flowers she liked, but she was fond of the colour purple, so something with that?” Steve asked hesitantly. _Did purple flowers even exist?_

Bucky took Steve’s use of the past tense about his mother in stride, which Steve appreciated, and said, “Purple sounds lovely, is this something you want now or to pick up for later?”

“Now? If that’s okay?” Steve said. “But if you’re busy, I can come back later.”

“Now’s fine,” Bucky said gently, “It’ll take around ten minutes to get it ready for you, feel free to look around the store or come back then, alright?”

Steve nodded and watched as Bucky walked through a small hallway to the back of the store. He could see the strings of Bucky’s apron tied in a large bow at the small of his back, and for some reason the sight made Steve’s heart swell up with affection. Despite Bucky being a stranger, Steve felt at ease around him and found himself wanting more of the man’s company. 

Steve took the time to explore the small store, being extra careful to make sure his large body didn’t knock into any fragile plants. Steve didn’t recognize most of the plants, in fact he didn’t even know there were this many houseplants. But plants and flowers weren’t the only things in the store. There were pots and vases, and jewellery and candles. There were kitchen and bath items, and reusable soaps and body care products that you could refill. Lots of books and wall decor and various knickknacks. All of it seemed ethically made and supported other small business and individuals. 

It was a nice change from the giant superstores that seemed to overtake anything and were always too loud and busy and artificial. Everything in _Barnes Blooms_ seemed infused with love and care, and Steve knew he would be coming back soon to not only support the small businesses that Bucky supported through his store, but to buy himself some things. And to see Bucky again. 

He was looking at the art pieces that were on display when a basket of keychains caught his eyes. There was a small red one of an anatomically correct heart and Steve grabbed it with a soft laugh, knowing Nat would get a kick out of it when he gave it to her. 

“Steve?” He heard Bucky say from the front of the store. This was another thing he appreciated about Bucky. His voice was always soft. It was a blessing to Steve’s sensitive ears.

Steve quickly made his way back to the front of the store, keychain clutched delicately in his hand. Bucky was standing behind the front desk, a large bouquet of purple and white flowers wrapped in soft white paper lying flat in front of him.

When he reached closer to the front of the counter, Steve noticed the silky lilac bow tying the bouquet together. “Oh Bucky, this is— a work of art.” And it was, the purple and white flowers were tastefully organized and Steve knew without a doubt that this was something his mother would’ve loved. It made him sad that she wasn’t here for him to give it to her and that he never could afford something nice for her when he was younger.

“I’m glad you like it,” Bucky replied modestly, “did you want to buy the keychain as well?”

Steve nodded and placed said keychain beside the flowers. 

“Your total will be $65.50. This week we’re also collecting donations for the LGBTQ youth shelter nearby if you’d like to donate.” Bucky pointed towards the glass jar on the counter with a piece of tape labelled “youth shelter donations”.

Steve was already pulling his wallet out. “Of course.” He dropped two hundred dollar bills in the jar and tapped his credit card to pay for the bouquet and keychain. He would’ve put more in the donation jar but it was all the cash he had on him. Steve promised himself he’d come back to not only see Bucky again, but donate more. 

“Have a good day, Steve,” Bucky said as he held out the bouquet to Steve.

Steve took it from him, fingers brushing against Bucky’s gloved ones. “Thank you, you too Bucky.”

Bucky gave him another one of those small smiles in returns, and Steve had to force himself to leave the store instead of standing there and staring stupidly at Bucky.

 _Get it together Rogers,_ he chastised himself, _don’t be weird._

* * *

Nat did laugh when he handed her the keychain the next day while they were out getting lunch. She immediately pulled out her ring of keys and attached the little heart to it. They were in a small hole in the wall type ramen restaurant that only had two dine in tables and was quiet, save for the chattering of the employees by the cash and in the kitchen. For Steve, who at times felt suffocated in crowds and busy places, small locations such as this were perfect.

“Where’d you get this from?” Nat asked, flicking the keychain to make the heart swing back and forth. Her hair was a dark brown today, tied in a low ponytail and she was dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a dark green t-shirt. She looked comfortable, and Steve thought that the look suited her. 

“Barnes Blooms,” Steve mumbled, and stuffed his mouth with noodles, hoping she wouldn’t catch how his ears immediately went hot with a flush.

Nat’s eyebrows rose up. “Oh?”

“I was getting flowers for my mom,” Steve explained.

“Was a certain florist there?”

“Maybe.” 

Nat twirled her chopsticks in her bowl of noodles, and then looked him in the eyes, face suddenly serious. “He’s a good guy, Steve.”

Steve frowned. “You know him?”

“Mhm, he’s been through some rough times I can’t tell you about, but he’s a real nice person. I think you two are very alike, you could be good friends.”

“I don’t know, Nat.”

“I think you may even have shared life experiences,” she said slyly, “there’s no harm in visiting his shop again and striking up a conversation.”

Steve shrugged. “Maybe.”

Truth be told, there was nothing he wanted more at the moment. Ever since he’d first seen Bucky, the man had constantly been on his mind. Steve didn’t know what it was about him, but he desperately wanted to get to know him and be his friend. Bucky and his shop exuded such a calm energy that Steve wanted to be around 24/7.

Steve and Nat went their separate ways after lunch, Nat to God knows where, and Steve back to his apartment. He went straight to his small studio room after taking off his shoes and putting away his wallet and keys. While his apartment had been something he’d insisted on choosing instead of letting SHIELD pick something for him, he wasn’t a fan of it. He had tried his best to decorate it and make it ‘homey’ and lived in, even going as far to put up some art pieces he’d bought.

But despite his best efforts, it didn’t feel lived in, no matter how much he tried to get rid of the hard edges and clinical features. It just felt _lonely_ , and Steve didn’t like being left alone with his own thoughts. The adjustment to this new century was difficult, Steve was brave enough to admit it. Even though SHIELD and Nat had tried their best to help him adapt, it was still a struggle. They couldn’t truly understand what it felt like to wake up in a new age where everyone you knew and loved was dead. Where people’s entire image of you was a public figure. 

It was why he struggled with making friends with civilians or dating any of the people Nat arranged him with. It was exactly as she’d said earlier, no one had shared life experiences. Last time he checked, Steve was the only person alive who’d been frozen and woken up in a time not his own.

He didn’t know what Nat meant by him and Bucky having shared life experiences, but Steve’s instincts were telling him that Bucky was a good person and to be near him at all times, and Steve’s instincts were rarely wrong when it came to people. 

Maybe he’d visit _Barnes Blooms_ again soon.

* * *

Steve didn’t get an immediate chance to visit _Barnes Blooms_ again. Two days after his mother’s birthday he and Natasha got called out for a mission. It was nothing different than their usual missions, just taking down a Hydra weapons manufacturing facility that had popped up on the grid. But for some reason, he’d come home after feeling like utter shit. He felt out of sorts, shaky and anxiety ridden. A huge adrenaline crash that lasted several days. He only had the energy to feed himself because the serum required it. The only thing that finally pushed him to leave his apartment was the fact that he’d run out of shampoo. He recalled that Bucky’s shop sold those refillable body products and the thought was enough to get him out of bed and dressed. Maybe being surrounded by the atmosphere of _Barnes Blooms_ and Bucky would be enough to get him out of this funk. 

He was already starting to feel better by the time he arrived at the small shop. The simple act of riding his motorcycle on a nice day was enough to slightly raise his spirits. After parking his bike out front, he walked past the extravagant display of plants on the sidewalk and into the shop, finding comfort in the little jingle the bell above the door made. 

Immediately he noticed the small changes in the store compared to his last visit. Some of the plants had been rearranged, and some plants that had been here last time were gone and replaced with new different ones. 

There didn’t seem to be anyone else in the shop, for which Steve was glad for. It was still early in the morning, and he was sure the shop had only just opened. He was about to round the corner of the giant shelf of plants that was in the middle of the shop when he almost ran straight into Bucky carrying a small step ladder. 

Steve immediately reached a hand out, gently grabbing Bucky’s forearm to stabilize him. “Oh gosh, sorry Bucky, are you alright?”

“Hello, Steve. I’m alright, thank you,” Bucky said, raising his head slightly to look up at him, and standing this close together Steve noticed the height difference between them.

Realizing he still had his hand on Bucky’s arm, Steve quickly retracted it and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “How are you?”

Bucky held the stepladder against his hip as if it were a laundry basket, causing it to pull on the striped baby blue apron he was wearing. He was wearing a flowy white long sleeve shirt underneath, laced ends of his sleeves leading to hands covered in black gloves like the last two times he’d seen him. “I’m doing well, how’s your morning going?”

“Uh, it’s going okay,” Steve replied. _Better now that I’m around you,_ he thought. “Do you need any help?” He asked, pointing at the step ladder.

Bucky glanced down at the ladder as if he’d forgotten it was there. “Oh, yes actually if you wouldn’t mind. Could you hang up those planters to the hooks on the ceiling?” He pointed to four pots of trailing leaf plants on the floor near the front window of the store. 

“Sure,” Steve said, taking the step ladder from Bucky’s hands. He placed it on the floor directly underneath the hooks on the ceiling and stepped onto it.

Bucky reached up and handed him one of the plants. “Thanks, you have better reach.”

Each of the pots was in some sort of knitted rope that he could hook onto the ceiling. He hooked the first one on and grabbed the next one Bucky offered to him. “Do you make these?” He asked.

“The macrame planters? Yeah, I make them whenever I have time.”

“They’re really nice,” Steve commented.

“Thank you, I run a class on macrame making a couple of times a year, you should check out the store site for our workshop dates if you’re interested.”

Steve nodded and hung up the last of the planters before hopping off the step ladder. 

“I appreciate the help,” Bucky said and reached his hands back to pull his ponytail tighter. “Is there anything I can help you with today?”

Steve’s brain went blank from the combination of unpreparedness and being assaulted with Bucky’s beauty at the same time. “Plants?” He asked, and he knew he sounded like an absolute idiot. “Plants. I want one.”

Bucky lips twitched upwards in a held back smile. “Sure, we’ve got lots of plants, have you ever owned a plant before?”

Steve shook his head.

“So you’re probably looking for a beginner plant then,” Bucky responded and walked over to one of the large shelves. “Something not finicky.”

“Yes, I don’t know if I have much of a green thumb.” Steve shrugged.

Bucky pulled a vining plant off the shelf and presented it to Steve. “This is a golden pothos,” he said and trailed one of his gloves hands over the green and white leaves. “They love indirect light or even some shade, and you only need to water them when the soil is dry.”

“I like it,” Steve said dumbly. _I like you,_ he thought. 

The smile Bucky sent Steve’s way was megawatt and absolutely genuine, making Steve flush. “I’m glad, I love helping people find their first plant. Are you looking for anything else?”

Steve shook his head. “No, just the plant for today.” 

“Perfect, come on, I’ll check you out.”

Steve paid for the plant and put in a donation in the donation jar, watching Bucky discretely the entire time. He wanted to say something, strike up a conversation but he felt tongue tied in the face of Bucky’s smooth words and kind smiles.

“See you next time, Steve,” Bucky said.

“See you,” Steve replied. _Next time._

Only once he was on his way back to his apartment did he realize that he had made the trip to _Barnes Blooms_ to buy shampoo and the only thing he’d bought was a plant. 

_Idiot, idiot, idiot._ Steve laughed at himself and realized it was just going to be another excuse to visit the shop and see Bucky. 

* * *

Inevitably, Steve found himself at _Barnes Blooms_ a few days later. He had tried to wait at least a week so he didn’t seem like a weirdo going back to the shop so soon, but the urge to see Bucky had won out. Besides, he doubted Bucky was the type of person to ridicule someone for visiting his shop. To Steve, it seemed like Bucky enjoyed his company just as much as Steve enjoyed his. 

So it was to Steve’s complete and utter disappointment to walk into Bucky’s shop and see someone else behind the counter. Instead of Bucky, there was a handsome black man wearing a dark blue collared t-shirt that hugged his biceps. Steve allowed himself a quick second to check out the man before he noticed him.

“Hey there, how can I help you?” The man said, looking up. 

Now that he was here and faced with someone he wasn’t expecting, Steve didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t had a specific reason for visiting the shop other than to see Bucky under the pretense of looking around. 

“Uh, is Bucky here?” 

The man came out from behind the counter so he was standing closer to Steve. “Bucky’s out of town for the rest of the week, I’m taking care of the shop for him in the meanwhile. Sam Wilson, nice to meet you,” Sam said with a smile that seemed to come to his face so easily, and held out his hand to Steve.

Steve shook it and couldn’t help but smile back, the man’s easy nature was contagious. “Nice to meet you too, I’m Steve.”

“Steve Rogers, right?”

Any comfort Steve had previously felt began to fade; he hated getting recognized in public. “That’s me,” he said, preparing himself for Sam to ask for a picture or signature or turn out to be one of those people that hated him. 

“Perfect, Bucky left something for you,” Sam said and retreated behind the front desk again, rummaging through something out of Steve’s sight. 

Bucky had left something for him? Bucky had talked about him? Steve felt giddy at the prospect. 

“Ah, here we go!” Sam said, and pulled out what looked like a sketchbook. 

Steve approached the counter and picked up the book Sam had laid there. It was a pocket sized bound navy blue sketchbook. The entire outside was covered in light green leaves and small white flowers. The inside had blank tanned pages, and he felt the coarse texture on the skin of his fingers when he ran them across the pages. There were a hundred pages, if he had to guess. The sketchbook was clearly a high quality one, something he wouldn’t have been able to afford when he was younger and something he hadn't the courage and energy to buy now when he could afford it. 

Art was something he had a difficult time reclaiming in this new age. The one time he’d visited an art store, his anxiety had skyrocketed at the amount of products that were out there. The choice paralysis had hit him hard, and he’d ended up leaving the store empty handed and on the verge of a panic attack.

He didn’t know how Bucky knew this was something he needed or if this was just a coincidental move, but giving Steve a sketchbook was the greatest gift. Because now Steve didn’t have to worry about what size to get or what weight or what colour of pages, the decision had been made for him. Steve knew, of course, that this wasn’t a long term solution; if he wanted to be on his way to recovery then he would have to learn to navigate things on his own at one point but for right now, this was the perfect starting point. 

“How much does it cost?” Steve asked Sam.

“Oh no man, Bucky said it was a gift,” Sam said, not unkindly. 

“Oh,” Steve said quietly. A gift. He tried to control the expression on his face but found that he couldn’t. He felt such simple joy at being given such a thoughtful gift from someone who he’d only talked to a handful of times but seemed to understand Steve in a way no one else had.

“Listen,” Sam said, pulling Steve out of his thoughts. “Bucky likes the coffee smoothies with whipped cream from the Kitty Cafe a block over, if you want to get him something.”

“Thank you for the suggestion,” Steve said.

“No worries. Bucky should be back Monday.”

Steve nodded and made his goodbyes with Sam before leaving the store, sketchbook tucked delicately against his chest. The first thing he did when he arrived at his apartment was grab a random pen from his junk drawer and settle down on his bed with the sketchbook in his lap. 

He felt that thrumming energy in his fingers that he’d barely felt in this century, the ache in his hands that urged him to draw. He was poised, pen held steadily in his hand. He had no idea what he was going to draw but he would be happy with whatever ended up on the page. Art was something he wanted to reclaim for himself. It was something that had not only supported him financially at one point, but also brought himself and others comfort and joy. 

He ran his hands reverently over the cover, noticing that the white flowers were raised. The texture was pleasing to his fingers and he thought fondly of Bucky picking it. Maybe he had chosen it on purpose or it was some leftover stock that he had in the shop, but gifting it to Steve was a thoughtful gesture Steve appreciated nonetheless. 

He opened the book to the first page, about to put his pen to paper when he noticed the writing there in purple ink at the top left of the page. At first glance Steve thought it was typed, the writing was too perfect, like the Arial font on his computer, but upon closer inspection Steve could tell it was handwritten. It looked strange in that purple ink.

The note read: _found this in the back of the store and thought of you._

The feeling that immediately encompassed Steve upon reading the note was like the exhilaration he felt with the wind in his face when he rode his bike at high speeds. _Bucky had been thinking of him._ The sketchbook was already precious enough to Steve, but now knowing that Bucky had thought of him when he’d seen it increased its value exponentially. 

Steve read the note, those few simple words over and over. He discovered a vulnerability in them. There was something intimate about sharing your handwriting with someone. Bucky could’ve easily typed and printed something out, but instead he’d shared this with Steve. The choice of pen colour and font revealed something about Bucky Steve couldn’t quite decipher. Steve knew he maybe was just reading too much into something that didn’t maybe didn’t mean anything at all, but he knew that this sketchbook would be one of the few items he would treasure infinitely. 

When he brought the pen down to draw however, all that came out was a wonky line and Steve inwardly cringed. He put the pen and sketchbook down and sighed. It seemed a beautiful gifted sketchbook wouldn’t be the thing to solve his artblock, but still he would cherish it until the day he would be able to draw again. 

* * *

Remembering what Sam told him about Bucky’s favourite drink, Steve made his way to the Kitty cafe the next Saturday when he was free of missions and paperwork. He left his apartment early in the morning and was surprised to see the cafe already busy. He tried to get a peek at the cats the cafe allegedly housed while he was in line, but apparently they were held in a separate room where customers could hang out with them. He ordered and picked up Bucky’s sugar monstrosity of a drink and took the short walk to Bucky’s shop across the street. 

There were two young women in the store already, browsing the plants and checking the little tags on them, arguing about which plant would look best in their apartment. Steve made his way to the back of the small shop where he found Bucky squinting at the computer by the cash register. A light yellow bandana holding his hair back. _You’re so fucked_ , Steve thought to himself, praying he wouldn’t make a fool of himself in the face of Bucky’s beauty. _Again._

“Hi Bucky,” he said, and moved to stand on the other side of the cash across from Bucky.

Bucky startled a little and looked up from the computer. He smiled when he saw Steve and rubbed at his eyes. “Hey Steve, nice to see you again. How are you?”

“I’m good,” Steve said, and awkwardly slid Bucky’s drink across the counter. “This is for you.”

“Oh?” Bucky grabbed the drink and too a sip, a pleased look immediately crossing his face. “Thank you, you don’t know how much I need this today.”

Steve shrugged, and rubbed the back of his neck shyly. “No worries, Sam told me what you like.”

“It’s very sweet of you.”

“It’s a very sweet drink,” Steve blurted, like an idiot, betrayed by his own tongue. 

Bucky laughed, and it was quiet in that way of people who haven’t had many opportunities to laugh and Steve held the sound to his heart like it was the most important piece of music to be preserved. 

“I do have a sweet tooth,” Bucky admitted.

 _You’re entirely sweet_. “I wanted to thank you for the sketchbook.”

“I’m glad you liked it,’ Bucky replied. “Is there anything I can help you find or order?”

“Uh, no, I was just dropping by to thank you and say hi.”

“Oh in that case, do you have time to stay for a while and help me out with something?”

“Sure, what can I do?” Steve asked. He was so instantly comforted by the easy camaraderie Bucky presented. He fondly thought how two of the three times they’d met, Steve had helped Bucky out with something. 

“Follow me,” Bucky replied.

Steve followed him to the back of the store and inside a large storage room. All over the floor there were giant green buckets filled with flowers. 

“So I need to move all of these to the cooler so they don’t wilt,” Bucky said, pointing to a section of the room that was walled off with glass. “But my shoulder's been acting up and I can't lift things. No one's been able to make it in today so you've actually shown up at the perfect time. If you're able and don't mind doing some heavy lifting, you'd be doing me a solid favour."

"Yeah, of course Bucky. I don't mind." 

"Thank you Steve." Bucky smiled blindingly and grabbed one of the many aprons hanging on a wooden hook. "Wear this, so your clothes don't get dirty. I'll be out front if you need anything."

"Sure," Steve said, blinded by the genuinity and beauty of Bucky's smile.

"Here, put the apron on, I'll tie the back for you."

Steve slid the apron over his neck and felt his neck heat up when Bucky moved behind him and began to tie the string at the small of his back.

"There, perfect. Come back to the front when you're done, alright?"

Steve nodded and turned to look at the many buckets of flowers waiting to be moved before him. Upon closer inspection he found that the buckets were filled with water which was why they were so heavy.

At first Steve was hesitant in his ministrations, carefully lifting each bucket to the cooler, making sure his hands didn't accidentally touch a flower and crush it. The last thing he wanted was to ruin the flowers or drop a bucket and make a mess. Even though it was such a menial task that anyone could have done, he wanted to impress Bucky or at the very least have Bucky view him as a competent human being instead of the clumsy mess he really was that the serum hadn't managed to fix. 

Taking the clumsiness factor into account, it ended up taking him slightly longer to move all the buckets into the cooler. Steve found that it was a satisfying repetitive task. The flowers were all sorts of pretty colours and so the task was never boring, because there were always different types of flowers to stare at and imagine in Bucky's hair because Steve was a softie and he had to admit he had a giant crush on the sweet brown haired man. 

When he was done moving all the buckets, he made his way back to the main store. Bucky was off to the side in front of a giant shelf of tall plants talking to a customer. Steve leaned against the cash counter and watched him fondly, attempting to look discreet and nonchalant.

Bucky was wearing the cutest outfit that flattered his figure. He had on a pair of light washed overalls with a yellow sweater underneath that matched the bandana on his head. The overalls were loose at the legs but hugged his ass tightly. Steve didn’t know where to focus his gaze. Bucky’s ass? The curls in his hair? The breadth of his arms in his shirt? The way he so gently touched the leaves of plants as he talked?

Steve moved to the side when Bucky and the customer approached the counter and watched as Bucky cashed out the young man. 

“Take care,” Bucky bid the customer goodbye and turned to Steve. “Thank you again for helping me out, I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Not at all,” Steve replied, trying to make himself seem cool and collected and not at all head over heels for Bucky like he actually was. 

“If you’re free, you can hang out here until noon when I close the store and I’ll treat you to lunch as thanks.”

“Oh you really don’t have to—”

“Please, Steve, it’s the least I can do,” Bucky said kindly, “I’ll be getting lunch anyways, you might as well join me.”

Feel bold, Steve said, “I’d love to then, so long as I’m not bothering you.”

Bucky smiled and tucked a stray hair behind his ear, almost shyly. “You couldn’t.”

“I really like your shop,” Steve said. _And you._

“Thank you,” Bucky said and leaned his elbows against the counter, fidgeting with the black leather gloves he wore. “I’m really proud of it. It wasn’t an easy business to get off the ground but it’s doing well now.”

“Oh wow, you started it from the ground up? That’s impressive Bucky, starting a business sounds hard.”

Bucky shrugged, but it was clear the compliment had affected him by the way his cheeks turned even more rosy than usual. “I had a lot of support along the way so I can’t take all the credit.”

Steve found himself matching Bucky’s pose, leaning against the counter across from him. “Why’d you choose a flower and plant shop?” he asked, curious and wanting Bucky to continue speaking forever. 

Bucky’s hands curled into fists and Steve immediately wanted to take the question back for eliciting such a tense reaction in an otherwise usually calm man, but Bucky’s hands relaxed and he met Steve’s eyes. “I’ve been through some— traumatic and violent experiences, I guess you can say. And I wanted to do something gentle with my hands that would bring people some sort of happiness, and what better way to do that than plants and flowers.”

The answer was so brutally honest and vulnerable in a way that made Steve upset that Bucky had had such experiences. Bucky who was gentle and skin and sweet— but then again, it meant that Bucky had probably recovered from those experiences and Steve was glad to see him happy in his shop like this. 

“I’m sorry you had to go through those things,” Steve said, hoping to convey the exact same honesty back. “I’m glad you got the chance to start this shop and do something you like, and thank you for trusting me with this.”

“You’re very easy to talk to,” Bucky said softly. 

For the next hour they intermittently chatted, only interrupted when a customer came in and Bucky had to help them out. It was one of the loveliest mornings Steve had had post-de-icing. Bucky was cute and attractive both in looks and personality. The way he spoke to customers was gentle and almost shy, and it had every person looking at him with the same sort of awe Steve felt when he spoke to Bucky. He had people eating out of the palm of his hand. It seemed Steve wasn’t the only one not immune to his charms. 

“It’s looking awfully dark out there,” Bucky said at one point.

He sounded worried and Steve glanced up from the flower catalogue Bucky had handed him as a distraction and stared out of the storefront windows. It was dark, in the way that signalled an incoming thunderstorm, but no storm had been reported in the weather forecast when Steve had checked in the morning. 

“Something’s wrong,” Steve muttered, an uneasy feeling festering in his stomach. He placed the catalogue down and walked to the front of the store, peeking up at the sky through the glass. Angry black clouds loomed above, moving at a pace far too fast to be natural. 

Steve’s phone dinged and Steve pulled it out of his pocket. A message from Nat.

 _Suit up, unknown threat_ , it said with a pickup location nearby. 

“Shit,” Steve swore under his breath. 

“Everything okay?” Bucky asked, walking towards him. In his overalls and apron and soft hair he looked vulnerable, and Steve was immediately worried for his safety. 

“No,” Steve said quickly, “something’s wrong. Listen to me, Bucky, you’ve got to stay inside, as far away from the door as you can get. Only let in people trying to get shelter but don’t go outside.”

“It’s not just a storm, then.”

Steve shook his head and made an aborted attempt to touch Bucky before pulling his hands back. “I’ve got to go, please stay safe, alright?”

“I’ll be alright, don’t worry about me.” Bucky’s voice was gentle, and he reached out a hand to softly touch Steve’s elbow. “You be careful out there.”

“I’ll come back later,” Steve promised and stepped out of the shop onto the street. He was immediately hit with a gust of wind that threatened to push even his large figure back. 

He ran down the street, urging any stragglers who hadn’t managed to find shelter to get inside. The pick up location was a giant heavy truck parked at the intersection nearby. Steve lifted the giant back door up enough for him to slide through and found the truck filled with computers and intel persons. Nat and Bruce were already there. The truck started moving immediately. 

“Here,” Nat said, passing him his stealth suit and shield. She filled him in as he started undressing and pulling on his suit. “We got reports an hour ago of unexplained weather phenomena to the north of the state that’s been spreading. It seems like some idiot got his hands on experimental weather tech and unleashed it.”

“Jeez, what’s the ETA before shit goes bad?” Steve asked and wordlessly offered his back to Nat for her to zip up his suit. 

Bruce pushed his glasses up his nose and stared down at the tablet in his hands. “We’ve got thirty minutes before the worst of it hits but it’s getting bad with every minute that passes. We’ve already relayed shelter in place orders.”

“So I’m assuming this weather tech is somewhere up north then?” Steve asked, pulling on his combat gloves.

“Albany,” Nat confirmed. “We’re on our way to the quinjet, ETA will be 15 minutes from there.”

“Alright, what’s the plan?”

“Tech’s located inside an abandoned factory building. Because of the weather severity and the eye of the storm being directly above the building, we’ll be jumping about half a mile away. Goal is to destroy the tech. Expect hostility.” 

“Wouldn’t be New York otherwise,” Steve rolled his eyes. 

The truck came to a stop and Steve, Nat, Bruce and a few other agents quickly got into the quinjet. The weather was already bad, gusty winds and rain were wreaking havoc on anything that wasn’t reinforced to the ground. Steve thought of Bucky’s shop, so vulnerable with its glass front and hoped he was okay. 

“What the hell,” Steve swore once they were safely inside. He noticed that his suit was made out of new material because not a drop of water was stuck to it. 

“It’s going to be worse in Albany,” Bruce said. 

"It'll be you, me and the strike team. Bruce will guide us from the quinjet," Nat said.

Steve nodded. When they reached the drop off point, he strapped the shield to his back and pulled on the same helmet everyone else was wearing. It looked more like a space helmet with its glass window but it was more sleek and fitted, made to protect them from the elements outside.

"Good luck," Bruce's voice sounded through the helmet's comm. 

Steve readied himself for the onslaught of wind and jumped when the jet hatch opened. They couldn't use parachutes because of the high winds so the quinjet had flown as near to the ground as it could so they could jump safely.

Steve was hurtled forward immediately and he barely managed to steady himself to the ground. The wind was chaotic, blowing in no particular direction and mixed with the rain that felt more like hail considering the force it hit his helmet, it was a storm veering from the natural.

"Building up ahead," Nat said.

"Got it, move forward," Steve said, 

It was a struggle walking. The wind was unpredictable and the rain made visibility poor. Two strike members got lost (though they announced they were safe though the comms). When they finally managed to get to the building and get inside, the stark difference between the outside environment and the inside of the building was disorienting. Whereas outside it had been stormy, loud with gusts of wind and booms of thunder, the inside of the building was eerily silent and dry despite the origin of the weather mishaps being right inside somewhere. 

“Keep your helmets on,” Steve ordered, “we don’t know what we’ll encounter.”

They crept further into the deserted building. It was empty save for a thick layer of dust and grey concrete walls. 

“First floor clear,” signalled one of the agents. 

“Roger that, onto the second,” Nat ordered. 

The second floor was also clear save for a young man who looked like he’d seen better days shakily pointing a gun at them. 

Steve held out an arm to signal his team to stand down and lower their weapons. “Put the gun down.”

“Listen, I didn’t mean for it to get this bad!” The man exclaimed.

“Just put the gun down, and we won’t have a problem, I promise,” Steve said calmly. The last thing they needed was a shootout. And with the way the man was holding the gun as if he’d never held one before, Steve knew his recklessness and fear could be more dangerous. 

“How do I know you won’t shoot me?”

“Put the gun down and tell us where the machine is and you’re safe,” Nat said. 

The man swallowed before shakily putting the gun down on the floor. “Machine’s on the roof, I tried to shut it down but the system’s not responding.”

“That’s fine, we’ll take it from here,” Nat said and walked forward to grab the man’s gun from the floor. 

“Strike team, stay down here and keep an eye on him, Nat and I will take care of the machine,” Steve said and received affirmatives from the team. 

“How are we going to shut this thing down?” He asked Nat as they made their way up the stairs leading to the roof.

“We may have to resort to plain brute force,” Nat replied, and Steve could hear the smile in her voice. 

“You just want to bash some stuff.”

“You’re not wrong.”

When they reached the door that would open to the roof, Steve gestured for Nat to get behind him and his shield. “God knows what’s blowing out there,” he explained. 

It was a good thing he got Nat to stand behind him because the moment he opened the door a powerful gust of wind blew through and threatened to push them off their feet if Steve hadn’t dug his shield into the floor to keep them stable. He held the shield in one hand and tucked Nat against his other, both of them curled up behind the shield. 

"Jesus," Steve said. He attempted to lift his head up to look over the edge of his shield and almost got his helmet thrown off with the force of the wind. 

"Okay, you walk us forward with the shield, Bruce will guide us to the machine from above," Nat said. "Bruce, do you copy?"

"I'm here, you're about 30 meters away. Go in a straight line, I'll tell you when to turn."

"Alright, thanks Bruce," Steve said. "You ready?" He asked Nat.

"Ready Freddy."

"Here we go." 

Bracing himself with Nat attached to his back, he quickly lifted his shield and dug it down into the ground a few feet up before the wind had a chance to blow then over. He repeated this step over and over until Bruce's voice sounded in his ear, "turn left, the machine will be 4 meters away."

"Got it, any idea on how to turn this thing off? Apparently the system's down," Steve asked. 

"I heard, how convenient," Bruce said dryly. "You may just have to destroy it."

Steve heard Nat laugh. "Brute force it is."

They had to sidestep with the shield or risk exposing themselves to the wind. When on the next sidestep the shield hit something solid, Steve knew they'd reached the machine.

"There's no wind here," Nat commented and moved from behind Steve to crouch in front of the machine. She was right, there was a one meter radius around the machine that was free if the violent weather outside it. 

Steve crouched beside Nat and looked down at the silver piece of machinery that was causing all the damage. It was a metal thing about half his size decorated with all sorts of wires and buttons.

"The man was right, the shutdown sequence is malfunctioning," Nat said. "It'll be easiest to use your shield."

Steve nodded. "Move to the side." 

When Nat was as far from the machine as she could get without leaving the little safety bubble, Steve lifted the shield above his head and brought it down with force against the machine. It took three hits before he heard a crackling sound and the storm around them started to dissipate.

"Shit, Steve, watch out!" Nat yelled.

Steve barely had time to lift his shield up to protect himself before something hit him and knocked him completely off the building and onto the ground below. He crashed onto his back roughly sliding through dirt and gravel before coming to a stop. 

He must’ve blacked out for a few minutes because next thing he knew, he was waking up to Nat slapping his cheek softly and telling him to wake up. He groaned and blinked rapidly, taking stock of his body for any injuries. 

“Are you hurt anywhere?” 

Steve shook his head. Nothing felt broken or sprained, at the worst he just felt like a giant human bruise. 

Nat scoffed. “I can’t believe you. Only you would get knocked off a two story building at full force and get up with no major injuries.” 

Steve laughed and took the hand she offered him to pull himself up. “Would you rather I get hurt?”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Well it seems this weather fuck up has stopped, Bruce says the storm is calming down everywhere. Cleanup’s going to be a bitch.”

Steve glanced around. The area was a mess, upended trees and branches everywhere, the ground covered in debris; he couldn’t imagine the mess New York would be right now. Suddenly he was assaulted with the image of Bucky’s shop and merchandise destroyed. Even though he knew Bucky could take care of himself, he felt anxious for his safety. 

“Can I skip debrief and reports?” He asked Nat, “I’ll go help with cleanup and—there’s someone I want to check on.”

Nat raised an eyebrow, amused. “A someone who happens to own a flower shop?”

“Maybe.” Steve shrugged, unable to help the small smile on his face at the thought of Bucky.

“Alright, Captain Crush, let’s go.”

They rode the quinjet back to New York and dropped Steve off at the top of some low-rise building. When he made his way down to street level, he saw the wreckage of the storm. Storefronts and roofs had been destroyed, streets were a mess of glass and miscellaneous items that had blown all over. Random trees had fallen and some power lines were destroyed; not to mention traffic signs and cars that had been destroyed. People had already begun to clean up, and Steve noticed a lot of people who were injured getting helped by others. 

With his shield strapped to his back, and his usual helmet on, he ran down the streets towards Bucky’s shop, anxious and hoping to see that Bucky was well. He should’ve known better because Bucky was always defying expectations. When he reached Bucky’s shop, the scene before him was shocking.

A car was upturned in front of the shop and it seemed like there were people inside and the doors were stuck. Several people tried pulling open the mangled doors to no avail. Steve made to move forward and help when he noticed Bucky appear from his shop. Steve immediately relaxed at the sight of him. He was a mess head to toe, clothes ripped and dirty but he didn’t seem hurt, and Steve breathed a sigh of relief.

What Steve wasn’t expecting was for Bucky to go straight up to the car and rip the passenger door straight off its hinges with his left hand, a feat that shouldn't have been possible by a normal human. 

Suddenly, Nat’s words at lunch that one day came to him: ‘you may even have shared life experiences’ she’d told him. Maybe Bucky wasn’t so human. But whatever Bucky was didn’t matter, Steve had to stop standing there and go help. 

Bucky didn’t look surprised when Steve approached him and the car. They worked together to help the passengers out of the car, relatively unharmed. When the couple in the car were on their way, Steve couldn’t help but immediately turn and gather Bucky in his arms. Bucky was stiff at first and Steve, suddenly embarrassed, made to pull his arms back but Bucky stopped him by putting his own arms around Steve. 

He was shorter than Steve and his face was tucked into the crook of Steve’s neck and Steve felt himself overfill with tenderness for a man he barely knew. Bucky pulled back and Steve let him go. Bucky’s face was flushed beneath the dirt there, and Steve was sure his own face matched beneath his helmet. 

“Your helmet is stupid,” Bucky said, though he was smiling.

Steve laughed, delighted, and pulled his helmet off, knowing his hair would be a fluffy mess. “How’d you know it was me?”

“I’d recognize you anywhere,” Bucky said. “Besides, how many Steve Rogers are there that are over 200 pound and attend Avengers benefit galas.”

Steve’s heart clenched at Bucky’s words. That Bucky had known who he was all along and never commented on it made Steve feel some sort of way. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Bucky said.

“I was worried about you,” Steve said quietly, painfully honest. “Though now I can see you can protect yourself.” He gestured towards Bucky’s left arm. 

Bucky’s face turned blank for a second and he sighed. “I guess I have some explaining to do.”

Steve gently grabbed his arm. “Hey, you’re not obligated to explain anything you don’t want to. I’m just glad you’re okay, that’s enough for me.”

Maybe the moment was too emotional and personal for two people who’d only known each other for a couple of weeks, but for once Steve felt brave enough to be vulnerable. 

“No, you should know,” Bucky said, “Come on up to my apartment, I owe you that lunch anyway— or dinner rather considering the time.”

“Alright, Buck, whatever you want.”

He followed Bucky into the shop and felt immediately saddened at the sight of all the plants on the ground and broken merchandise. The inside of the shop was a complete mess of soil and glass and puddles of water. 

“Oh Bucky, this is terrible.”

“It’s okay, nothing that can’t be fixed,” Bucky replied, shrugging. “I’ve got the money and insurance to reorder merchandise and fix everything, it’s the smaller businesses in the area that won’t be able to get back on their feet as quickly that I’m worried about.”

“Will some sort of emergency donation fund be set up?” Steve asked, stepping over a shelf that had been knocked over, already making plans to donate. 

“Yeah soon, probably. I’ll send you the link,” Bucky said, reading his mind. 

Steve followed Bucky to an old wooden staircase at the back of the store that led up to a dark green door of what Steve assumed was Bucky’s apartment. The door was already unlocked and Bucky turned the handle and stepped inside, Steve on his heels. 

Bucky’s apartment was small and Steve fell in love with it in an instant. It was decorated to the brim, homey and cozy in a way Steve could never achieve with his own too large apartment. The entrance opened immediately to the living room and kitchen, which were separated only by a change in flooring from hardwood to tile. There was a giant brown wood bookshelf on one wall that was stuffed full of books and plants, no space left untouched. A long velvet dark green couch had its back to a large window that faced the main street, an intricately carved coffee table sitting in front of the couch with piles of books scattered on it. At the other corner or the apartment in the kitchen was another window, with a small two seater round table. The only small hallway led to two doors, which Steve assumed were Bucky's bedroom and washroom. 

"I'm going to get changed and get you some clothes too," Bucky said and left the living room. 

Curious, Steve moved to explore the bookshelf. There were a lot of history books, many of which Steve had read. But there were a lot of novels too, ranging through a myriad of genres from fantasy to romance, judging by their titles. There were lots of random knick knacks in addition to the plants and books— and picture frames. 

Steve studied them, feeling slightly guilty at looking at something as personal as pictures, but his curiosity couldn't be sated. There were lots of photos of Bucky with different people in different places looking happy, but what caught Steve's eye was a small black and white framed photo of Bucky and three young girls. It wasn't the black and white that was strange, but the way Bucky looked young, baby fat in his cheeks, hair short and curly, arms wrapped around the young women, who must've been his sisters judging by the similarities in their faces. What was even stranger was the clothing they wore, dresses and pants and suspenders that looked like they'd been pulled out of Steve' neighborhood in old Brooklyn. 

"Those are my sisters," Bucky said from behind him, startling Steve who hadn't heard him approach.

Steve frowned, feeling unease crawl through him. "When was this picture taken?" He asked, turning to look at him.

Bucky was dressed in black sweatpants and a long sleeve plain red shirt, gloves on his hands as always, carrying a set of clothes for Steve. "Get changed and I'll explain. You can take a shower if you'd like too."

"Alright," Steve said, taking the bundle of clothes.

"Washroom's on the left. We can eat and I'll explain everything after." 

Steve nodded and made his way to Bucky's bathroom. It was, not to Steve's surprise, filled with plants and Steve smiled fondly to himself. Tearing off his sweaty uniform was a huge relief on his compressed body. The hot shower was even better, easing the tension held in his muscles. Bucky had a lot of products on his shower hanger, and Steve grabbed the first bottles labeled shampoo and body wash. He surreptitiously sniffed them and was surprised to find they smelled calming and clean to his nose, unlike the many body washes he'd tried that smelled too artificial and overwhelming for his sensitive nose. When he was done, he dried himself using a spare towel he found in the drawer beneath the sink and dressed himself in the clothes Bucky had given him, dark green sweatpants that were too short at the ankles and too loose at the hips and a threadbare well worn pink t shirt that smelled enticingly of Bucky.

There was a stacked washing machine dryer combo in the washroom and Steve shoved his uniform in there, hoping Bucky wouldn't mind. 

When he went back to the living room he found Bucky pulling some sort of baked pasta dish from the oven and the wafting smells made Steve's stomach growl impatiently for food. 

"Anything I can do to help?" 

"If you could grab the pitcher of lemonade from the fridge and the glasses please, that'd be wonderful."

"Sure," Steve said. Bucky's fridge when he opened it was filled with reusable containers and fresh foods. In fact, there was no plastic or anything that looked pre packaged or store bought. The pitcher was easy to find, and Steve grabbed it and two of the glasses on the drying rack and placed them on Bucky's little dining table. Bucky followed him with two plates heaping with baked pasta and vegetables. 

"Sorry, this was the best I could do quickly."

"Don't be," Steve said, eyeing the food like it was his last meal ever, "it smells delicious."

Bucky smiled softly. "Dig in then."

They did just that, both too hungry and exhausted to wait any longer. When their plates were clear and they were sipping at their lemonade, Bucky cleared his throat and set his glass down. 

"It's strange, but you and I are the most alike humans alive, and through two centuries and billions of people we managed to find each other," Bucky said. His voice was quiet, almost hesitant, but the impact and meaning of his words was loud in the silent apartment. 

"Two centuries," Steve said, just as quietly, a comment not a question. Small details were starting to add up in his mind, he was a strategist after all. 

Bucky smiled, a small turn of his lips but it was sad. "I was born in 1917, a year before you I think, right?" 

Steve could do nothing but shakily nod, slightly shocked though it should've been apparent to him. It was just strange to hear his suspicions confirmed aloud. 

"I was born and raised in Brooklyn, like you. When the war started I was drafted into the army. Became a sniper and Sergeant in the 107th. My unit got ambushed and captured at Azzano and taken prisoner by Hydra to Austria."

Bucky spoke as if this was some ordinary everyday story he was telling and not something that brought pain to Steve's aching heart with every word. 

Steve swallowed roughly, and said, “I infiltrated that base in Austria.” The guilt threatened to overwhelm him. Where was Bucky when Steve had freed the prisoners in that Hydra facility in Austria?

“I’d already been transported to a Siberian base weeks before you came,” Bucky said, gently, as if he was trying to soothe Steve. “Arnim Zola took an interest in me and long story short, I was experimented on and given a knockoff version of your serum.” 

“How did you escape?”

“It’s not that easy or happy of a story. Have you heard of the Winter Soldier?”

Steve’s stomach plummeted, thoughts racing too quickly through his head for him to piece anything together or comprehend. “Oh Bucky,” was all he could say, softly, sadly. 

“I was brainwashed and placed in cryo over and over. They took my arm and gave me this,” Bucky said, sliding his glove off to reveal a silver metal hand, and Steve thought of how strong and resilient Bucky was, to speak of his history. 

“I did Hydra’s dirty deeds on and off for seventy years, until five years ago when I was given a mission here in Brooklyn, and partially broke my conditioning,” Bucky continued. “It was Natasha who brought me into SHIELD and helped break the rest of my conditioning.”

Nat, who had her own history of conditioning, would’ve known exactly what Bucky needed to set him on the path of recovery. Steve felt overwhelmed with too much information. The fact that Bucky had been through so much pain, the fact that their origins were the same, so close to each other at moments in time yet never meeting. The missed opportunities made his heart ache in his chest, and he felt his throat get tight in that swollen way of oncoming tears. He felt like he shouldn’t be the one crying; out of the two of them, Steve had gotten the easy deal, asleep for seventy years while Bucky had been endlessly tortured and violated. 

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” was all he could say, and he tried to discreetly wipe away the tears threatening to leak out of the corners of his eyes. 

Bucky reached across the table and took Steve’s hand in his metal one. “I’m not telling you this to make you sad or to pity me, Steve,” Bucky said, his voice soft but firm. “I’m telling you because it’s such a beautiful thing to have happened that we both survived and lived to meet each other. I know how lonely it is to wake up in a new world where everything is strange and none of the things or people that you loved exist, where the only thing that keeps you sane and gives you company is your memories.”

Steve squeezed Bucky’s hand and breathed shakily, words lodged in this throat. To hear of the desolation he’d felt over the last year since being de-iced from someone who’d been through the same thing was borderline painful. Having his feelings and experiences of being alienated in this new century to be validated was overwhelming beyond relief. Steve felt an immense sort of comfort to know that he wasn’t alone, that Bucky understood and was right there with him. 

Bucky’s own eyes were wet. “When I saw you at that Gala and then you walked into my shop a few days later, I couldn’t believe it. Steve, you’re the only person in this world, other than Nat, who would understand what I’ve been through.”

“Shared life experiences,” Steve said, with a wobbly smile, 

Bucky smiled back and his face held the kindest expression. “Exactly. And forgive me for being blunt, but I’ve learnt not to dance around the things I want, and I want us to be friends, Steve.”

“I want that, too.”

Bucky laughed softly. “I think this calls for ice cream.”

“I’d love some,” Steve said. 

They ate ice cream and spoke about their pasts, sharing stories of their teenage years and Brooklyn, reminiscing about old restaurants and Coney island. Every second they spent talking felt surreal to Steve. He’d never imagined that there would be someone else like him, and every moment he spent staring at Bucky with some sort of reverence, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes and was afraid Bucky would disappear any second. 

The rest of the evening was spent together. The entire time their conversations flowed smoothly, there was never an awkward pause. The comfort Steve felt spending time with Bucky was unparalleled. They were so at ease together, finding comfort and laughter in each other’s company, and Steve knew that Bucky was going to be the best friend he would ever have.


	2. Chapter 2

After that day spent together, Steve became a common sight at _Barnes Blooms_ , so much so that even the regulars at the store began to recognize him. Though they’d only known each other for a month at this point, he and Bucky settled into their friendship so easily, as if they’d know each other for years. Most of his time when he wasn’t on a mission was spent at the shop. He practically only slept at his apartment, because he always brought Bucky lunch and they usually grabbed dinner together when the shop closed. That’s where he was now, watering the hanging pothos plants because he was tall enough to reach them as Bucky sat behind the counter and looked over the day’s flower orders.

“You know,” Bucky said, looking up from his printed order sheet because he refused to use the computer more than necessary, “you’re here so much I may have to start paying you.”

Steve fumbled with the rose gold watering can, a few errant drops of water hitting the floor. “I— I’m sorry? I can not come by as often if it’s a problem.” Steve said, suddenly feeling self conscious and too big in this small shop filled with delicate things. Maybe he was overstepping, being at _Blooms_ all the time, maybe Bucky didn’t enjoy his company all that much after all— 

“No!” Bucky said, catching Steve by surprise. Bucky was generally very soft spoken and Steve had never heard him raise his voice once in the months he’d known him. 

“It’s not a problem,” Bucky said quietly, fumbling with the piece of paper in his hands, “I appreciate your company always, Steve.”

“Oh,” Steve said, a smile erupting on his face, “me too, Buck.”

Bucky smiled back, a turn of his pink lips that was reserved for Steve and not the slight smile he gave customers. It lit up his eyes, and the combination with the permanent rosiness of his cheeks made Steve’s heart trip over itself. 

Steve looked away for fear that the obvious would show on his face and Bucky would learn the goings of his heart. “Do you want me to water anything else?”

“Steve,” Bucky started in a way that Steve couldn’t help but turn back and look at him again. He was looking at Steve thoughtfully, eyes a little wide. “Nevermind, could you water the snake plants outside? The sun’s so bright today I don’t want them to dry out.”

“Of course,” Steve said, glad for the excuse to go outside and compose himself.

The street outside the shop was quiet, save for a few cars and a couple of people taking a stroll. It was fine weather for it today, hot with a slight breeze, and Steve enjoyed the warmth of the sun on his skin. The outside of _Barnes Blooms_ was decorated with woven baskets and different plants available for sale, all arranged aesthetically. 

When he had gotten comfortable enough to ask, he’d asked Bucky if it was safe to keep merchandise outside where anyone could grab it and run off. Bucky had laughed one of his small laughs that sounded so sweet and genuine despite its size. He’d told Steve that if he trusted the community they were in, they would trust him in return. Besides, no one would just grab a plant and run off. And if they did, Bucky just hoped the plant made them happy.

The answer had boggled Steve and made him revere Bucky a hundred times fold. It said so much about Bucky’s character and kindness that he exuded to each and every person he interacted with. And Bucky was right, in the weeks Steve had been hanging out at the shop, not one plant has been stolen from the sidewalk. Steve thought it was because the community respected Bucky and valued everything he did for it. Every week Bucky collected money for a community organization or charity and so much of his own store sales went back into funding community events. 

Bucky was a good person in every sense of the word, kindhearted and gentle and giving and every single day Steve fell in love with him a little bit more. Despite all the hardships Bucky had faced, he’d still found a way to come out on top and make something worthwhile out of his life. To Steve, who was still trying to get his feet under him in this new century and making fumbling attempts at recovery, Bucky was a guiding star in a hopeless sky and Steve hoped one day he would be as well adjusted and content as him. 

Steve checked the moisture of the plants outside, carefully dipping his pinky finger into the soil like Bucky taught him and watering any dry plants. He hadn’t trusted himself to do this the first time Bucky had asked. He’d told Bucky that the plants could sense his fear, which had made Bucky laugh. Steve had heard horror stories of overwatering and underwatering and had seen the people who came into the shop in a panic, asking Bucky for advice on their dying plants to which the issue was always watering. 

But Steve had learned the nuances of watering different plants, and most importantly he’d learned to be confident in himself around them. He wanted to impress Bucky and moreso, spite pushed him to excel in everything he did. 

Watering the outside plants put the taco stand across the street directly in his view and range of smell, and Steve’s stomach grumbled angrily. A glance at his watch told him it was 5:30 pm, thirty minutes until _Blooms_ closed and he and Bucky could get dinner.

Steve went back into the store, weaving his way around to the main counter where Bucky was still frowning at his order sheet. 

He put the watering can down and leaned against the counter, resting his arms on it. “Tacos?”

Bucky made a sound of agreement then looked up to meet Steve’s eyes. “Would you like to come pick up orders with me tomorrow?”

“Sure, Sam’s going to look after the store?” Steve asked. Since that first meeting with Sam, Steve hadn’t seen him again, but he’d learned from Bucky that Sam had helped him start up the store and was pretty much the manager, dealing with all financial aspects of owning a shop. 

Bucky nodded, and returned to glaring at his order sheet. Steve laughed softly. “Want help?”

“Please,” Bucky sighed, “my head hurts and I can’t make sense of the numbers.”

“Migraine?” Steve asked, and reached his hand out to touch and lightly massage Bucky’s temple.

Bucky leaned into the touch and closed his eyes, a crease of pain prominent between his eyebrows. “Too much staring at a screen.”

“Maybe you need glasses?” Steve said quietly, aware of how noise aggravated Bucky’s migraines, and watched with interest as a flush started to appear on Bucky’s face.

Bucky opened his eyes, and looked embarrassed. “I already have a pair, actually.”

“Bucky,” Steve chastised softly, “why don’t you wear them?”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s just weird. I’ve got the serum but it won’t fix my eyes or my head and I have to wear glasses?”

This was another thing Steve felt irrationally guilty about, though he knew if he told Bucky he’d smack him upside the head and tell him none of this was his fault. Not only did Bucky have a knock off of Steve’s serum, but the recurrent cryo and brainwashing had caused irreversible brain damage that even the serum couldn’t fix. One of the results was frequent migraines.

“You should wear them,” Steve said, and pulled his hand back from Bucky’s face when a customer walked into the shop, realizing the position they were in. 

Since that day of the weather mishap when Bucky had revealed his identity and they’d become friends, they had become incredibly close, at a pace others would consider abnormal. With both of them being tactile people, it meant lots of touches between them, and Steve didn’t know how to feel about it. Because Steve was head over heels for Bucky at this point, and he wasn’t sure if Bucky felt the same. He wasn’t sure if they would remain on the path to friendship or if their relationship was on a course to one day evolve into something else. Sometimes it felt like Bucky felt the same way about him and other times it seemed like Bucky would only ever view him as a friend. For now though, Steve was content to remain as they were, and if one day that changed then even better. 

The conversation about the glasses was forgotten as Bucky helped the customer out. They got tacos from the taco stand and had them on a nearby bench in the warm evening. It was as lovely as any other day spent with Bucky and Steve went home with a lightness in his step and in his chest that gave him the hope of one day being truly happy in this century. 

* * *

When Steve arrived at the shop the next morning for their trip to pick up orders, Sam was already there, shaking his head at the computer by the cash.

"Good morning, Sam."

Sam looked up. "Hey Steve, how's it going?"

"Good, how are you?" Steve asked. "Has Bucky come down yet?"

"I'm well, thank you. Bucky's upstairs still getting ready."

"Oh okay," Steve said, a little awkwardly. 

"Can you believe he still hasn't bothered to learn to use this system? He's worked this business for how many years now?" Sam huffed. Steve would've thought he was genuinely irritated if it wasn't for how much Bucky valued Sam and his friendship and vice versa. 

Steve laughed, unable to be awkward in the presence of such a comforting man. "He just likes doing things the old fashioned way." And he didn't like to stare at screens because of his head, Steve now knew. 

Sam rolled his eyes. "He's lucky I work here."

"Bucky said you're part time, do you do anything else?" Steve asked. 

"Yeah! I'm a counselor at the VA a few streets down." 

"Oh," Steve said and then quickly without thought said, "say, would you happen to have any therapist recommendations in the area?"

Sam looked surprised at the question for a millisecond before schooling his face. "Yeah of course. Here, write down your email and I'll send you some good colleagues of mine." He slid a small notepad towards Steve.

Steve wrote down his personal email and slid the notepad back. "Thanks, I appreciate it."

"No worries man, and feel free to drop by the group sessions at the VA sometime. Bucky drops by every so often, he can tell you all about it."

"Maybe," Steve said even though he already knew that wouldn't be something he would be doing anytime soon. Listening to other people's traumas and sharing his own to strangers was not something he was ready for yet. Asking Sam for therapist recommendations was already a big step he hadn't even expected to take today. 

Bucky suddenly appeared from the back in a rush. And though Steve knew he'd probably been getting ready in a hurry upstairs, he looked absolutely impeccable. His hair was tied at the back with two braids crowning the sides of his head, not a hair out of place. His beard was groomed as always Steve wished to touch it. 

"Sorry I'm late," Bucky said and looked at Sam with pleading eyes. "Sam, my favourite business partner, I know I fucked up something on the accounting system, don't be angry."

Sam shook his head with a tsk. "I already fixed it, now get your ass out of here, you're going to be late."

"Thank you!" Bucky said and started dragging Steve out of the store by the arm. "All the flower orders for today are in the cooler!" He yelled (gently and softly of course) back at Sam.

Steve laughed at Bucky's hurriedness and got into the passenger seat of the van Bucky always borrowed from Sam for merchandise pickups.

"You sure you don't want to take the mini?" Steve asked jokingly, referring to Bucky's tiny red mini cooper. 

Bucky sent a small glare his way and started up the car, though the effect was ruined by the twitching of his lips upward in a smile. "You alone take up 50% of the mini's area when you're in it, we'd be able to fit one plant max."

"Bucky, you're almost as big as I am, we'd fit one small succulent maybe," Steve said, and the image of going to the warehouse and coming back to Sam with only one small plant had him laughing.

Bucky started laughing too and Steve decided that this was already the best morning ever. When they managed to get a hold of themselves, Bucky started driving and they began their one hour drive. 

When they merged onto the freeway, Bucky said, “put on the CD that’s in my bag.”

Reaching back, Steve grabbed Bucky’s grey backpack and placed it in his lap. He rummaged through a folder of papers, a water bottle and random snacks before he found the CD. “What’s this?”

Bucky smiled. “Put it on and see.”

Curious, Steve placed the CD in the CD player of the car. Music started playing through the speakers and Steve immediately chuckled upon hearing the beginning to the Planet Earth 2 Soundtrack, which they’d spent the last week watching. 

“I didn’t think they sold a CD of the soundtrack,” he commented. 

“I burned it the old fashioned way, of course.”

Flabbergasted, Steve laughed. “You know you can listen to stuff on those music apps?”

Bucky huffed. “Of course, Steve, I just wanted a physical copy.”

"Alright," Steve said and smiled to himself. He liked how Bucky wasn't ashamed of not being up to date on the newest technology or simply outright not liking some tech. So many people today put emphasis on the internet and the newest apps and systems and so on, but with Bucky, if Steve didn't know something he never felt ridiculed or embarrassed.

"If anything catches your eye at the nursery let me know," Bucky said. 

"Sure," Steve said, though he doubted he'd see something Bucky didn't already have at the store. 

They spent the drive peacefully listening to the soundtrack. And for the umpteenth time in the last couple of months, Steve felt so thankful for Bucky's presence, the way they could sit quietly and enjoy each other's company, no words needed. 

When they arrived at the giant plant supplier Steve found himself speechless at how large it was and how many plants there were. Compared to Bucky's shop, this place was a jungle and Bucky looked right at home, greeting the employees with a friendly smile and kind words. 

"There are so many, how do you even know what to get or how many?" Steve asked Bucky when he slid him a large metal trolley to roll.

"I have my order sheet for what's running low at the store, and any special requests customers have," Bucky said, amused.

Bucky's love for plants had clearly rubbed onto Steve because Steve found himself enchanted by all the greenery as they walked around the nursery, putting plants in the cart according to Bucky's list. 

"Oh Bucky, look at this," Steve said when a crate of small plants with round leaves caught his eye. He abandoned the cart and grabbed one to show Bucky. "The leaves look like watermelons!" 

"That's why they're called watermelon peperomias," Bucky said with a soft laugh. "They haven't had these in stock for a while, grab us ten, will you?" 

"Yes, sir," Steve replied, much to Bucky's amusement and added the plants to the cart. 

They continued adding plants until Bucky was satisfied and then headed back to the front to checkout. While Bucky was dealing with the scanning and paying of the items, a large plant that seemed more like a tree caught his eye. It seemed to be on display, all by itself on a platform. The base and branches were trunk-like, brown and solid and led to dozens of green leaves. The label said it was a Jade plant and that this plant was _sixty years old._

"What the fuck," Steve muttered quietly to himself. Houseplants could live for that long? 

"What're you looking at?" Bucky asked, in that quiet sneaking way of his.

"Buck, this plant is _sixty years old."_

"Hm, yeah Jade plants are hardy, they can live up to a hundred," Bucky said, he looked thoughtful for a second before changing the topic. "Anyways, we've got to put all the plants in the car. Sam has to leave the shop at twelve so we've got to be back by then."

Steve was disappointed at leaving the jade plant behind. Such an old plant, it carried so much history in its roots and leaves. It must've been so loved by its owners to have lived for so long and to see the changing of days from decade to decade. Steve had never felt connected towards plants, he could admit they were pretty sure, but this was the first plant he'd felt a connection too and it was a strange feeling. 

The jade plant became a forgotten thought as he and Bucky became busy with the task of flitting all the plants in the van without breaking any leaves. Between the two of them, they managed it relatively quickly and were back on the road heading back to the shop. They made it back before Sam had to leave and he helped them unpack everything, carrying each plant into the shop.

When Sam left, Bucky and Steve spent most of the day organizing the plants around the shop and helping any customers that came in. They ordered pizza for lunch, enough to satisfy two serum enhanced appetites. Dinner was spent together, a common occurrence for them now, and at the end of the day when they said their goodbyes and goodnights and went their separate ways, Steve found himself not wanting to leave. He imagined a different reality where he would go home to Bucky’s apartment and just stay with Bucky and kiss him there. Instead though, he had to go back to his own lonely apartment and wonder if Bucky was lonely in his own home too. 

The next few days passed by in a similar fashion, Steve hung out at the shop and helped out where he could. But when the store closed for the evening one of those days and it was time for their daily dinner together, Bucky declined.

“I’ve got something to take care of,” he vaguely explained. 

“Oh, sure, no worries,” Steve said, unable to mask the disappointment in his voice. He knew he shouldn’t feel disappointed when he himself had missed several of their dinners because of missions. 

Steve startled when Bucky grabbed his face and touched the corner of his lips to lift them up. “Hey, no frowning, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

With Bucky touching his face and teasing him Steve couldn’t help but blush and smile. “Alright, good night Bucky.”

Bucky stared at his lips for a second before removing his hands from Steve’s face slowly. “Take care, Steve.”

For a moment, they stood there staring at each other before Bucky grinned and playfully pushed Steve away. “Good night, Steve.”

Steve laughed, delighted, and gave Bucky a dorky wave before putting on his helmet and driving away on his motorcycle, a smile on his face the entire way to his apartment. 

The next morning, Steve grabbed Bucky's favourite drink in the largest size available on his way to the shop. The bell above the door rang to signal his entrance, a sound that now provided Steve with immense comfort. Bucky was squatting as he watered a few large plants that sat on the floor. 

"Good morning, Steve," he said without looking up. 

"I could be a customer," Steve said. 

Bucky stood up and took the drink from Steve's hand. "I only know one person who's over 200 pounds but walks like they weigh a hundred," Bucky said fondly. "And thank you for the drink."

"I walk normally, excuse you," Steve rolled his eyes. 

Bucky hummed and took a sip of his 50% sugary drink. Steve noticed he seemed to have an almost nervous energy thrumming under his skin, which was strange for Bucky who was usually so lowkey. 

"Are you okay?" Steve asked, suspiciously.

"Notice anything new around?" 

Steve frowned and looked around, eyes sweeping the store until he noticed something large wrapped in brown paper at the floor by the cash that hadn't been there the day before. 

"What's that?" 

Bucky smiled, and looked like he was barely containing his glee. "Open it and find out."

Stupefied by Bucky's unusual behaviour, Steve approached the large bundle hesitantly. He carefully unwrapped the brown paper and the moment small green leaves were revealed he was unable to contain his gasp of excitement. He ripped away the rest of the wrapping with haste and caution to reveal the sixty year old jade plant he'd seen at the warehouse a few days earlier. 

"Holy shit," he swore, voice a bare whisper, staring reverently at the plant. 

Bucky came to his side. "I noticed you eyeing it."

“Bucky,” Steve whispered, at a loss for any words that could describe what such a gesture and gift meant to him. 

“I thought we could keep it in the shop here, not for sale obviously,” Bucky said hesitantly. “But if you want to take it home with you that’s also an option, it’s your gift.”

“No we’ll keep it here, this spot fits it perfectly,” Steve replied and looked at Bucky with what must’ve been an absolutely adoring gaze. “Thank you Bucky, it must’ve been so expensive.”

Bucky smiled and shrugged. “People deserve to have the things that make them happy, especially plants.”

_You make me happy,_ Steve thought. “And what about you?” He blurted. “Do you have the things that make you happy?”

“I have everything that makes me happy right here,” Bucky said, staring into his eyes and patting his arm before turning away.

“Now let’s get to work, that groom’s coming to pick up his wedding arrangements and they’re still not done. I don’t understand why he doesn’t just let us bring them…” His voice trailed off as he walked away and Steve could only stare at him with a fondness made entirely of love. 

True to his word, Sam had sent him a list of five therapists he recommended. After some extensive googling and stalking of online social profiles, Steve settled on a young woman by the name of Dr. Yasmin Merchant who specialized in war trauma, PTSD, anxiety and reintegrating veterans into society. After a quick phone consultation, Steve found that he liked her, and they set standing appointments at her home office for every Wednesday. 

She was a no nonsense person which put Steve at ease. She didn’t bullshit him and didn’t let him bullshit her when he got too stubborn and refused to talk about something. Steve wasn’t sure yet how she was going to help him with some of his more deep rooted issues since all they’d done so far was chat and discuss what Steve wanted out of therapy. But he trusted her, and since there was no harm in their sessions, Steve felt content to continue his therapy with her. 

It was after one of his therapy sessions, and Steve and Bucky were having dinner in Bucky’s kitchen when Steve’s phone pinged. It was a message from Nat.

_Gear up, active hydra base found. Leave in 20._

That would give him just enough time to grab his suit and shield from his apartment and meet Nat at the pickup location. 

Steve pushed his chair back from the tiny two person circular table in Bucky’s tiny kitchen and stood up. He looked apologetically at Bucky. “I have to leave.”

Bucky nodded in understanding, and stood up, following Steve to the apartment entrance. 

“I don’t know how long it’ll be,” Steve said, “I’ll text you when I get back.” He was disappointed to have to end his time with Bucky early but an _active_ Hydra base was rare, and it was important to snip it right in the bud before it grew or had a chance to do something. 

Bucky’s uncovered left hand gently clasped Steve’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing the hard edge of his collarbone. “Be careful, Steve.”

Steve wanted to stay here in this moment and kiss him, never leave him. 

The mission was to destroy a suddenly active Hydra base in Europe that was causing trouble in the small town it was based in. Steve never even got the chance to step into the base or fight any Hydra goons. He and Nat and Clint had jumped off the quinjet with parachutes. Steve had agreed to the parachute only because he’d promised Bucky earlier that he would be safe. Some help it was though, because a few seconds after he jumped and opened his parachute, someone shot right at him, punctured the parachute, and sent Steve spiraling dangerously towards the ground. He could hear Nat and Clint’s panicked voices in his mic before he hit the ground and tumbled. He heard a crack in his right leg and his head bounced on the ground before he blacked out.

* * *

Steve woke up to a commotion outside his medical room. He was too fuzzy, brain messed up with a combination of painkillers and a probable concussion to make out what was being said. The room was dark save for the soft light coming in through the sheer curtains. The heart rate monitor made quiet beeps in the background. 

Steve’s mouth was uncomfortably dry and he licked his lips, a failed attempt at wetting them. He tried to sit up, but his muscles protested and he collapsed back onto the bed with a huff. A glance down at his body told him that other than the myriad of bruises and the concussion, the worst of his injuries was a broken leg in a cast. 

The commotion outside quieted, and the door to his room opened. Steve winced at the onslaught of bright light but the figure there quickly entered and closed the door. When Steve realized it was Bucky, he immediately tried to sit up and winced. “Buck!”

Bucky rushed to his side, pushing gently on his shoulders till Steve lay back down. “Settle down, Steve,” he said. His voice was quiet and the worried expression on his face was strange to Steve.

He’d never see Bucky worried before, stressed yes, but worried no. There was a furrow between his eyebrows that Steve wanted to reach up and smoothen. The drugs must have been messing with his inhibitions because he reached his hand up and did just that. “Why you looking so worried, Buck?”

Bucky released a sigh that was loud in the otherwise quiet room and grabbed Steve’s hand that was on his face, holding it palm to palm. “I thought I told you to be careful.”

Oh. Bucky was worried about him. “I’m okay, Bucky, honestly.”

Bucky made a noncommittal hum. “You’ll sleep here for the night, I’m taking you home in the morning.”

Steve frowned. He didn’t want to go to his empty apartment, which had no warmth or life within its walls. At least here in the tower, he could be around Nat and Bruce when they checked up on him. “I’d rather not go back to my place,” he said, sounding upset even to his own ears.

Bucky settled on the armchair by the bed, still holding Steve’s hand in his. “I meant my apartment. You’re concussed, someone needs to watch over you. You’ll stay with me until you’re better.”

That was some of the best news Steve had ever received and he smiled up dopily at Bucky. He was elated at the thought of staying with Bucky and seeing him every day (not that he didn’t already see him almost everyday).

Despite the deep bone ache and haziness he felt, he was enveloped by warmth, all his senses narrowing down to the feel of the skin of Bucky’s ungloved right hand on his own. Bucky was warmth, he thought nonsensically.

“Go to sleep, Steve,” Bucky whispered. His hair looked as if it’d been tied up in a rush, a mess of unsmooth curls that stuck out everywhere. His usually meticulously groomed beard was a bit of a mess, fluffy, and Steve found that he liked the look, wanted to run his hand over the beard and see whether it would be soft or scratchy. 

Bucky held his hand and met his eyes until Steve fell asleep. 

In the morning Steve was checked on by the nurses and doctors, Nat and Bucky standing on either side of his bed like sentinels. He tried to listen as the doctor told him his care instructions for his leg but he was rightfully distracted by the sight of Bucky listening intently and writing everything down on a tiny notebook he’d pulled out of nowhere. Even with no drugs to make his excuses, he found himself staring unabashedly at Bucky with a look Nat would later tell him was absolutely besotted. 

It was strange having Nat and Bucky in the same room. It was like two different aspects of his life clashing together, even though logically he knew that they already knew each other. There was a strange dynamic between them, less friends and more acquaintances with mutual respect. It made sense, with both Bucky and Nat being private people.

Bucky didn’t let him eat breakfast in medical. “I’ll make you something better than hospital food at home.”

Steve didn’t argue, he’d had a few chances to taste Bucky’s cooking and he wouldn’t pass up the chance. Besides, he didn’t want to spend a moment more in the medical wing of the tower. In fact, he didn’t even argue about being wheeled out of the tower on a wheelchair. 

It was a struggle to get Steve and his cast into Bucky’s tiny red mini cooper without further injuring his leg, and they had to push back the passenger seat so Steve could recline and make space for his casted leg flat out in front of him. 

“Take care of him, Barnes,” Nat said to Bucky before turning to Steve and pointedly saying, “and you, no doing dumb shit that’ll worsen your injuries.”

Steve smiled sheepishly. “I’ll try.”

“He won’t,” Bucky said sternly from the driver’s seat.

Nat laughed and closed the passenger door, giving them a little wave before walking back into the tower. 

The drive to Bucky’s apartment was spent in a comfortable silence. New York roads being the way they were meant being stuck in traffic and a drive that would’ve taken 30 minutes somewhere else took an hour here. Steve spent that time split between dozing and staring at Bucky. 

He found that Bucky was a patient driver. He never cursed when other cars cut him off and he was never frustrated at the snail pace they were going at. He was a careful driver, always going at the exact speed limit, giving others the right of way, letting people pass. It was just so Bucky and Steve found himself mesmerized by the movement of Bucky’s gloved hands on the steering wheel, the slight bulge of his bicep as he turned the wheel. 

Steve fell asleep at some point during the drive, because he woke up to Bucky gently shaking his shoulder. He blinked blearily and found that they were parked in front of Bucky’s store. 

“Aw Buck, you didn’t have to close the store, I could’ve stayed at the tower,” Steve said as Bucky helped him out of the car. 

“It’s not a problem,” Bucky said, passing Steve one of his crutches and hauling one of his arms around his shoulders. “I’d rather be the one to keep an eye on you.”

Steve smiled, always endeared by Bucky’s brutal honesty and affirmation that he cared for Steve. It was during these moments when Steve thought about how lucky they were to have made it to this century and have actually met. 

They took the side entrance that led to the staircase that made its way to Bucky’s second floor apartment above his shop. Going up the stairs with a cast wasn’t the most pleasant experience with his drugs wearing off, but Steve had experienced worse pain than the little pangs in his leg every time he hopped a step despite Bucky fussing over him. 

The underarms of his shirt were stained with sweat by the time they stepped into Bucky’s apartment and Steve’s stomach grumbled with gnawing hunger. Bucky helped him settle on the couch in the living room with his casted leg on the intricately carved brown wooden table. Bucky’s apartment was by no means large, the living room was an open space with a direct view of a small kitchenette. But what it lacked in size, the space made up with its relaxed and lived in feel and decorations. 

Bucky grabbed a large reusable water bottle from the fridge and handed it to Steve who immediately chugged half of it down. 

“Give me thirty minutes to get food ready then you can eat, alright?”

Steve nodded, already melting into Bucky's soft couch with exhaustion. He peered through slitted eyes as Bucky worked around the kitchen. He set to cracking all the eggs in the carton he pulled out from the fridge, stirring them with a fork before pouring the mixture into a large pan. While he scrambled the eggs, he set about popping bread into the toaster and cutting up fruit. Steve admired the way he easily multitasked and moved around, so dynamic in his actions and focus. 

Steve wasn't much of a cook, and his lack of interest in the cooking arts meant he couldn't make more than one thing at once like Bucky was currently doing and would more likely burn his food. Food was something of an issue to him, didn't have enough of it last century, had too much of it now. He didn't like grocery shopping because of the grand number of choices there were for every food item. He usually ordered takeout before he’d met Bucky. That too, presented its own problem. Post-serum acquisition Steve found that his taste was more sensitive, particularly when it came to food that had more artificial ingredients and flavoring than natural.

It was one of the reasons why he cherished the times when Bucky cooked for them. All of Bucky's ingredients were organically sourced. Seasonings that he mixed himself, bread that he made with his own two hands. Everything was bought from local farms in the area. That was another thing Steve admired about him, the way that he supported his community through every aspect of his life. Bucky Barnes was someone who used the privilege he had to the maximum benefit of those who needed it.

"I can hear your stomach grumbling from here," Bucky said and began to plate everything.

He made several trips across the two meters that separated the living space from the kitchen, depositing a new plate of food on the coffee table each time. There was scrambled eggs and buttered toast, along with a carton of milk and juice and plenty of different fruits. It was a meal worthy of two super soldier appetites.

They didn't speak as they ate. Steve figured Bucky was as hungry as him by the amount of food he ate. Steve was more undignified in the way he shoved food into his mouth, the demands of the serum overriding any manners or decorum. But Bucky never commented or looked judgemental, just continued to fill Steve's plate up. This was another thing Steve appreciated about him. Bucky understood the needs of the serum, and how much food they had to pack away to sate their hunger and maintain the energy required for everyday life. Some people didn't understand how Steve could eat three times the amount of a normal man during one meal. 

But Bucky did. In a universe where Steve thought he was alone in his experiences, here was Bucky Barnes with the shared life experiences Steve so badly desired in another person.

When Steve took his final bite, his appetite finally reaching its limit, he collapsed back onto the couch, feeling the comings of a food coma. 

Bucky, who had been eating at a more sedate pace, was still chewing away at a piece of toast slathered with jam. His hair was braided today, a single french braid down the back of his head. A deep desperation and longing to touch it and trace the plait with his fingers hit Steve. He imagined the hair would be soft and smooth, an irresistible sensation that would lead to Steve running his fingers over the braid over and over. With his hair pulled away from his face, Bucky's cheekbones and the chubbiness there was more prominent, tinged with that perpetual dash of pink as if he'd been outside in the cold. 

Steve was so enamoured with him, felt such a deep respect that it all threatened to burst from him like too many flowers arranged in a too small bouquet. But he felt too nervous and clumsy to make his emotions known. The confidence and charisma he felt on the battlefield did not so easily transfer to matters of the heart. So for now, all he could do was make his gratitude for Bucky's presence in his life known. 

"Thank you for picking me up and cooking and letting me stay in your home," Steve said, not bothering to hide the sincerity in his voice, "seriously, I appreciate it."

"You're welcome," Bucky replied, just as honestly, "beside, I always appreciate the company, and the extra set of hands at the shop," he added, teasing. 

Steve laughed. "You're going to put an injured man to work?"

Bucky rolled his eyes and huffed softly. "As if you were planning to lay around and do nothing till you get better."

Steve shrugged, guilty but unashamed. “You know I love helping out at the shop.”

“Mhm, and you know you’re my favourite unpaid employee,” Bucky teased. 

“I’m your only employee,” Steve said, which wasn’t entirely true. There were times Bucky received large orders like the one at the banquet he and Steve had met at. In those situations, he got some of the kids at the youth shelter to help out, paid of course, well above minimum wage. 

Steve yawned feeling the exhaustion creep up on him again. These were the two things his body demanded when injured, food and sleep. 

Bucky stood up. “Alright, let’s get you to bed.”

It was only when they were inside Bucky’s bedroom and had Steve settled on the bed that Steve realized Bucky’s apartment only had one bedroom and subsequently one bed.

“Jeez Bucky, I don’t want to inconvenience you, where are you gonna sleep while I’m here?”

Bucky was busy placing pillows around Steve’s leg and covering him with the duvet. Normally, Steve would be bristling at being babied, but he found that he didn’t mind Bucky taking care of him. 

“The couch is a pullout, don’t worry,” Bucky said, “I’m going downstairs to water the plants and check the voicemail. Get some sleep and _don’t_ do anything stupid.”

“You’re taking the stupid with you,” Steve mumbled, the comfort of the bed already lulling him to sleep.

Steve heard Bucky laugh softly and then the lights were off and he was asleep. 

He woke up in the late afternoon when the sun was low in the sky and the light that filtered through the gap in Bucky’s curtains was a glowy orange. His crutches were conveniently leaning against the bedside drawer and Steve heaved himself off the bed and out of the bedroom, the crutches making a clicking sound each time they hit the dark hardwood floor. 

There was music playing softly in the living room, a slow quiet song Steve didn’t recognize. Bucky was standing in front of the stove, stirring something in a pink saucepan. His body slowly swayed to the music, his braid swishing against his back with each side to side move. Steve smiled at the sight, the peacefulness and domesticity of it. For a second, he allowed himself the indulgence of imagining going up to Bucky and wrapping his arms around him and swaying together, imagined living here with Bucky and seeing him like this everyday and kissing him. How wonderful it would be, to bask in Bucky’s presence every day and to be granted the privilege to see him like this, unguarded and carefree. 

“Spaghetti’s ready now if you want to eat,” Bucky said, jolting Steve out of his thoughts. 

“Sounds good, need any help?” Steve asked, hopping his way over to the kitchen. 

“If you can manage to get the big bowls out of the cupboard, please.”

“Sure.” Leaning against the counter, Steve pulled out the two baby blue stone bowls out of the cupboard above the sink and placed them down on the countertop beside the Stove.

He watched as Bucky placed a heap of spaghetti noodles in each plate, before scooping a red sauce and meatballs on top. As Bucky carried their plates to his little two seater round table by the window, Steve grabbed them forks from the cutlery drawer and two empty glasses, carrying them precariously in one hand while the other held one of his crutches to hobble his way to the table. He placed a fork and glass by each plate and took his seat as Bucky went back to grab a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge. 

Steve had no patience, and had already started eating by the time Bucky poured them each a glass of lemonade. “This is so good, Bucky,” he groaned and knew he probably had sauce all over his mouth. Sue him, spaghetti was a messy food to eat. 

“You’re a mess,” Bucky said, laughing softly and digging into his own bowl. 

_Your mess,_ Steve thought and shoved a meatball in his mouth so he wouldn’t say something stupid. He finished his bowl first, being the more undignified eater between the two of them. He relaxed back in his chair and leisurely sipped his glass of lemonade, green tea flavoured today. 

The small dining table sat at the corner of Bucky’s apartment, by a large window that overlooked the main street below. It was slightly cracked open, letting in the warm summer breeze that ruffled the leaves of the small plants sitting on the windowsill and the noises of life passing by outside. It was so serene, and Steve was so in love with this moment he wished it would never end. 

“How’s your leg?” Bucky asked.

“Just aching,” Steve replied, already feeling the beginnings of the telltale itch beneath his skin that meant the serum was getting to work. “It’ll be healed by the end of the week, probably.”

“And your head?”

“No headache.”

“Good,” Bucky said, pleased, "you feeling up for watching a movie after dishes?"

Steve nodded. When Bucky was finished eating, they carried the plates and cutlery to the sink. Bucky washed the dishes while Steve leaned against the counter on one leg and dried whatever Bucky handed to him. Bucky wasn't wearing his gloves, he never did in the apartment and Steve always found his eyes drawn to his metal arm. He always wondered what its sensitivity was, could it feel the brush of Steve's fingers as he grabbed a bowl from Bucky's hand? Steve didn't ask, never did. He tried his best not to bring attention to Bucky's arm. He knew too well how it felt when people focused on one aspect of your person, and he didn't want to subject Bucky to that sort of behaviour and make him uncomfortable.

When everything was washed and dried, they watched an old animated film, because Bucky knew Steve well. Steve's injured leg was splayed out on the coffee table beside Bucky's laptop where the movie was playing because Bucky didn't own a TV. It meant that they were sitting side by side on the small couch, only a few inches of space separating them. 

Both of them were wearing t-shirts and when either of them moved to stretch or yawn their arms and elbows brushed against each other, warm skin against warm skin. Bucky felt unbearably soft and Steve wanted to get as close to him as possible, so close their cells could say hello. He wondered if they'd recognize each other, one serumed cell to another, if any part of their genetics was the same, if they were made out of the same star stuff. 

It was a strange train of thought, brought on by an even stranger movie. But Steve loved the fantastical world it portrayed in its special animation style. It was so easy to tell how much love went into creating this movie and seeing such emotion portrayed in the lines and colours someone drew made him want to pick up a pencil or paintbrush and do the same. Drawing was something he still struggled with, he would only get as far as holding the pencil in his hand before his brain would freeze and refuse to cooperate. He knew it's something he'd have to discuss with Dr. Merchant sooner or later.

For now though he would enjoy the movie and time well spent with Bucky. They were halfway through the movie when Bucky's body started to sag against Steve's side. Steve glanced down at him and noticed his eyes were closed, mouth parted with soft breaths. Carefully, as not to wake him, Steve wrapped his arm around him, supporting his neck and lying comfortably against his side. 

It was no wonder Bucky had fallen asleep. He probably hadn't slept well the night he spent in medical with Steve and they'd woken up early to drive here. He always worked himself hard but Steve knew Bucky wouldn't trade any of the work he did for the world. He was so genuine and caring and kind and Steve wanted to let him know that, profess his appreciation in words that didn't sound clumsy or awkward. 

For now though, all he could do was make sure Bucky napped soundly and didn't wake up with a crick in his neck. 

The next day Bucky opened the shop for business and Steve spent it downstairs with him. With his leg in a cast and Bucky’s adamanace that he do nothing stupid, Steve was relegated to sit behind the cash and help customers check out. It wasn’t a role he minded. He liked interacting with Bucky’s customers, seeing their excitement or joy at buying something they wanted, the light in their eyes when Bucky handed them a bouquet they’d ordered. 

Bucky’s shop had such a diverse array of customers. An old lady came in to buy a bouquet for her and her wife’s 50th anniversary. A group of high schoolers came in to buy their friend a plant to liven up her hospital room. A mother and son combo came in to buy some hypoallergenic laundry detergent and a tiny one inch plant that caught the toddler’s eye. Many of them were regular customers who greeted Bucky with familiarity. It was lovely to be a part of their day and see a little into the lives of random people. More than once Steve wanted to draw the customers who walked in.

Most of them didn’t recognize him, or did but didn’t comment, which he appreciated. He imagined this was what it was like to be a normal person working a normal job. He was just Steve here, working at a plant shop as a cashier. It was a refreshing change of pace and though it didn’t give him the rush of adrenaline he got from missions, it soothed and satisfied him just the same. For a moment he imagined retiring from the superhero gig and working here with Bucky. It was a scary thought and he shut it down before it made him spiral. But it was something to think about, one day. 

The rest of the week was spent in a similar fashion, with Steve manning the cash while Bucky organized the merchandise and prepared orders and bouquets. They had every meal together, breakfast in the apartment in the morning and lunch usually takeout from the restaurants nearby. Dinner was back at the apartment where Bucky cooked and Steve helped as much as his terrible culinary ability allowed (which was mostly just handing Bucky ingredients and watching). They typically watched a movie after or spent the rest of the evening reading novels from Bucky’s overflowing bookshelf. Bucky still refused to let Steve give up the bed, so nights were spent with Bucky sleeping on the pullout and Steve in Bucky’s bedroom. 

On the third night of staying over at Bucky’s, Steve got plagued with a nightmare. He couldn’t remember what it was about, just felt a deep sense of fear and panic and woke up gasping to the sound of Bucky softly calling his name. 

He curled up on his side and tired to fight the irrational sense of doom he felt, throat clenched with a terror he couldn’t define nor explain. He felt the bed dip, and Bucky sit on the side, making sure to keep a distance between them.

“Hey, it’s alright, is it okay if I touch you?” Bucky asked, as softly as Steve had ever heard him.

Steve nodded, not trusting his ability to speak and not scream. Bucky’s hand went to his arm, where it gently stroked the skin of his upper arm in a calming manner. The touch felt grounding and Steve started the breathing exercise Dr. Merchant had recommended for when he felt like this. 

Steve managed to regulate his breathing and he winced, noticing how stiffly he was holding his body. “I’m sorry for waking you up,” he whispered to Bucky. 

“I have nightmares too, I understand,” Bucky said.

“You can go back to sleep, I’m okay.” But it was a lie. Steve felt out of sorts, shaky and haunted by a dream he couldn’t dream, left with the emotional vestiges. The last thing he wanted right now was to be alone. 

Bucky was nothing if not observant though. “Do you mind if I stay?” He asked, raising the blanket.

Steve let out a shaky sigh of relief and shook his head, skootching over to the side to make space for Bucky on the bed. Bucky slid under the blanket and didn’t shy away. 

“Little spoon or big spoon?” he asked, as if it was a normal occurrence between friends to spoon.

Steve didn’t answer, just turned his back to Bucky who immediately plastered himself against his back and wrapped a gentle arm around Steve’s stomach. His physical presence behind Steve set Steve at ease and he felt himself relax, slowly releasing the tension stored in his body. 

With Bucky breathing softly at his back, Steve felt safe in a way he never had after waking up from a nightmare. After a nightmare he would usually pace around or go for a run, too afraid of falling asleep and dreaming again. But here, with Bucky, he felt slightly less fearful of his dreams, and the heavy weight at his back and warmth of Bucky’s body lulled him back into a dreamless sleep. 

He woke up slowly in the morning to the sound of rain tapping on the window. He wavered in that state between wakefulness and sleep, feeling cozy and warm. He blinked his eyes open slowly. The room was shrouded in that dark grey sort of darkness that came with cloudy days and rainstorms. He became aware of his position in bed and stiffened, noticing that he had his legs and arms around Bucky like a koala, neck tucked under Bucky’s chin. Bucky, too, had his arms wrapped around Steve in a tight grasp that spoke of never letting go. 

Bucky’s hair was loose, as he often wore it during sleep. It was messy, tangled here and there and curled and frizzy from the humidity of the summer. His face was slack in sleep and he was a mouth breather like Steve, little whistles of air escaping with every breath. Steve didn’t dare move and disturb his rest; he wanted to preserve this moment in Bucky’s arm for as long he could. 

For the next while, he dozed while Bucky slept until the sound of Bucky’s stomach grumbling awoke Bucky. Steve watched his face as he woke up. His breathing changed and his nose twitched before his eyelids fluttered, eyelashes dancing with the movement like crowns for his eyes. 

When his eyes opened and focused on Steve whose own face was mere inches away, he smiled, eyes crusty with sleep and pillow creases on his cheeks. Steve couldn’t help but smile back when graced with such a sight, soft and sleep rumpled Bucky. 

“How did you sleep?” Bucky asked, voice rough but quiet. 

“Good,” Steve replied, “you?”

“Good,” Bucky said, and he made no move to detach himself from Steve. Instead his metal hand reached up and lightly traced the stubble growing on Steve’s cheek. “You’ve got the beginnings of a beard.”

The metal of Bucky’s hand was cool and Steve shivered at the touch, at Bucky gently holding Steve’s face in his palm and tracing his skin. 

“I shave, usually,” Steve said, hoping his voice didn’t betray the effect Bucky’s touch was having on him. 

“I like it,” Bucky whispered intimately. “It’s got a bit of ginger in it,” he teased. 

Steve cheeks heated. “It’s the Irish genes. All I could grow before the serum were a few ginger whiskers on my chin, my ma teased me endlessly about it.”

Bucky smiled, making the crow’s feet at his eyes more pronounced. “I wonder what it would’ve been like if our paths had crossed.”

“You would’ve likely found me in some alley fighting someone twice my size and getting up to no good,” Steve laughed. 

Bucky gently pinched Steve’s side. “You still do that now,” he admonished. 

“I’m much less likely to lose now, though.”

“More likely to get hurt.”

Steve shrugged. “Hazard of the job.”

Bucky pinched him again. “I gave you a pair of scissors to cut out labels yesterday and you managed to cut yourself. You’re the hazard.”

Steve laughed and instinctually went for Bucky’s stomach, tickling him. “Your fault for making an injured man work!”

“Oh so now you’re injured,” Bucky said between laughs, wriggling to get away from Steve’s fingers. 

The sound of his laugh brought a deep seated joy to Steve’s chest. It wasn’t often that Bucky let himself be carefree like this, cheeks flushed with laughs and wriggling uncontrollably trying to slap Steve’s hands away. Steve thought of how they were probably thinking the same thing: the ability to roughhouse with each other without fear of their strength injuring the other person as it would a normal individual. They were matched in strength and it was refreshing not to have to hold back. 

Bucky was straddling Steve’s abdomen, tickling his underarms relentlessly when Steve’s stomach let out the loudest growl known to man. Bucky stopped his ministrations, hands holding Steve’s underarms. 

Bucky smiled down at him. “Guess it’s time for breakfast.”

Steve didn’t want him to get off and would have rather they stayed in bed all day but he didn’t voice those thoughts. Instead he smiled back and told himself to be thankful for all these moments together. 

When it was time to take off his cast at the tower a few weeks later, Steve was visibly moody. Bucky noticed but didn’t comment which Steve wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or even more moody. He didn’t want the cast taken off because it meant two things. 1. No injury meant there was no need for him to stay in Bucky’s home which meant he had to go back to his own lonely apartment. 2. No injury meant he was back on active duty which inevitably meant more missions and less time spent with Bucky. 

Bucky didn’t say anything until they were at the tower in a room waiting for the doctor to come in.

“You’re grumpy,” Bucky said and flicked the angry furrow between Steve’s eyebrows. 

Steve knew he was pouting, a stubborn tilt to his chin. “I’m not grumpy,” he said and crossed his arms. 

Bucky raised an eyebrow and pushed the chunky square glasses up his nose. “Alright.”

Steve could feel him grumpiness fading away at the sight of Bucky fidgeting with his glasses. It was too cute a sight. Bucky had only recently started wearing his glasses to help with migraine prevention and Steve thought Bucky was simply the best looking person to have ever worn glasses. 

“I like your glasses,” Steve said because Bucky didn’t deserve to be on the other end of Steve’s bad mood. 

“Steve, I’ve been wearing these for a week.”

“And?”

Bucky only shook his head fondly and rolled his eyes. 

By the time Steve had his cast off and they were on their way back to _Barnes Blooms,_ Steve’s bad mood had significantly waned. How could he stay upset when Bucky was right there? When Bucky smiled at him with that small upwards tilt of his lips and crinkling of his eyes? Yes Steve wasn’t happy to have to go back to his own apartment at the end of the day, but being with Bucky for the hours they were together was precious and valued nonetheless.

* * *

A few days after getting his cast off, Steve was manning the counter in case any customers walked into the shop while Bucky was in the large cooler in the back. Steve knew how to cash people out but he didn’t think he had the practice or the knowledge about plants and flowers to help customers out and he was lowkey prickling with anxiety waiting for Bucky to come back.

“Steve?” Bucky yelled from the back, and by yelled, he said in his normal voice that Steve could hear thanks to the serum.

Steve sighed in relief and went through the small hallway behind him to where the large cooling fridge for the flowers was. Bucky was standing in front of a metal cart with buckets of flowers in water in front of him. He was wearing his usual blue apron, hair tied back in a velvet green scrunchie today. As always, like every day he saw him, Steve thought he was the most beautiful thing ever.

“What’s up?”

“Steve,” Bucky said seriously, “How would you like to make your own bouquet today?”

“What?” Steve said, surprised, “No, no I can’t Bucky. I’ve never done it before and—”

“I’ll teach you,” Bucky said, stepping forward until he was right in front of Steve. He placed his hand on Steve’s arm and smiled, “It’s just for fun.”

“Alright,” Steve said, helpless to Bucky’s whim when he smiled at him like that. 

“Great! We just got some really nice carnations,” Bucky said, leading Steve into the cooler to stand in front of the worktable.

His hand was still on Steve’s arm and Steve didn’t want him to ever let go. 

“I don’t know where to start,” Steve said lamely, staring at the variety of flowers and foliage that was in front of him.

“You’re an artist, Steve. Start with what you think looks good.” Bucky said. “You’re making a small one, so you’ll need about a dozen flowers.”

“Right,” Steve said. He could do this, he could impress Bucky. Steve was an artist, he could put colours together. 

Hesitantly, Steve grabbed four pink snapdragons, three white snapdragons and 5 carnations. He shook them from the water at their stems and placed them down on the table. 

Bucky’s hand was still on his arm, and Bucky said, “Foliage, if you want any.”

Steve grabbed some fern and some myrtle leaves and then looked at Bucky, “Actually, do you um have any eucalyptus, the small kind?”

Bucky looked surprised but pleased, eyebrows raising. “You mean baby eucalyptus? Yeah I think I’ve got some, let me look.” He said and left the cooler to rummage through the dried item storage.

He came back with a bundle of dried baby eucalyptus that was a green-blue and placed it on the table beside Steve’s chosen flowers. Then he pulled out his flower scissors from the front pocket of his apron and handed them to Steve. 

He didn’t say anything and Steve was thankful. He felt nervous with Bucky’s eyes on him, Bucky whose bouquets made people so happy and filled with emotion. Steve didn’t know what he was doing, but he was going to do his best to make Bucky proud. Despite never having made a bouquet, he’d watched avidly when Bucky worked. He could do this.

As gently as he could, Steve started cutting the stems of the flowers and foliage to the lengths he desired and started arranging them together. It took a couple of tries and fumbling before Steve settled on an arrangement, holding it carefully up by the stems. 

“Last thing,” Bucky said and laid down a silky white ribbon on the table. 

Steve placed the bouquet carefully over the ribbon, and grabbed the two ends of the ends in an attempt to tie them together into a bow. But Bucky’s lack of opinion so far made him nervous and made his hands shake. Steve’s fingers shook with anxiety and he dropped the ribbon more than once, fingers almost bruising a flower petal as he attempted to tie the ribbon. _Fuck._ Steve was just a soldier, hands too big and rough for the soft and delicate petals of these flowers. He could never be soft enough, gentle enough to handle them.

“It’s okay,” Bucky murmured softly and placed his hands over top of Steve’s, standing shoulder to shoulder with him. His metal hand was cool because of the cooler, and his other hand was warm despite it. 

Slowly, he guided Steve’s fingers to tying the bow just below where the stems of the bouquet appeared. 

The bouquet was a tight ring of interspersed white and pink snapdragons surrounded by a circle of carnations framed by baby eucalyptus. Bucky gently eased the bouquet from Steve’s fingers and held it in front of him. 

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the snapdragon be used as the star of a bouquet,” Bucky said. 

Disappointment made Steve’s gut clench uncomfortably. “Oh.”

“No that’s not what I mean, Steve. It’s absolutely beautiful.” Bucky said and looked up at him.

“Oh,” Steve said again, feeling a flush travel up his neck. “Really?”

Bucky nodded, “We need to take pictures.” 

“Oh no, we really don’t—”

Bucky handed him the bouquet and pulled out his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. “We really do.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile when Bucky looked at him proudly like that, so he let Bucky take a dozen photos of him and the bouquet. It was truly a wonder to be the centre of Bucky’s attention, and Steve was beyond lucky to have this charming man in his life.

The next day, as Steve passed the wall in the back where Bucky kept pictures of bouquets and events he was fond of, Steve noticed a new picture. It was a printed polaroid of Steve and his bouquet. The caption under was: _Baby’s first bouquet._

**Baby's first bouquet, art by: fadefilter**

It soon became obvious that Steve wasn’t the only one harbouring romantic feelings. At first, Steve discounted Bucky’s longful looks and touches as something he did with everyone. Like an emotional idiot, he told himself that Bucky’s hand on his arm and the way he looked into his eyes and smiled was just something Bucky did because he was _nice._

It took a visit from Nat to the shop to knock some sense into Steve’s head. She was leaning against the counter where Steve was behind the cash, looking like she owned the place. Bucky was in the back, putting together bouquets for two brides that were getting married the following weekend. Bucky was always adamant that he hated doing floral arrangements for weddings, but time and time again he accepted couples’ requests for wedding flowers. Steve had a feeling Bucky had a soft spot for weddings and happy endings. 

“What time do you get off?” Nat asked, tapping the counter with her purple coloured nails to a rhythm Steve wasn’t familiar with.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Nat, you know I don’t work here. I also know that you have the store’s opening hours memorized.”

“Maybe so,” Nat said and shrugged. “Want to get dinner when the store closes?”

Steve poked her with the end of the pen in his hand. “Bucky and I always get dinner together after, you’re welcome to join.”

Nat pouted and slapped the pen out of his hand, sending it careening to the floor. “It’s always Bucky this, Bucky that, what about me, your closest and most valued friend.”

“You’re a baby.” Steve laughed and refused to let her fake whining make him feel guilty. 

“Are you bothering my most valuable employee, Natasha?” Bucky asked, emerging from the back.

Steve’s eyes immediately zeroed in on him, body orienting itself towards him. His hair was tied up so it wouldn’t bother him while he was working, brown hair smooth and pulled back to reveal his handsome face. Steve tried not to stare at the way his arms filled out the blue long sleeve he was wearing. By the way Nat discreetly pinched his arm, Steve knew he wasn’t schooling his face in the slightest. 

“No,” Natasha replied, “I’m just inviting myself over for dinner.”

“You’re always welcome to,” Bucky told her and then turned to place a hand on Steve’s arm. “Steve.”

“Buck,” Steve replied. Bucky’s hand on his arm was burning right through his skin. 

Bucky smiled, the prettiest blush on his cheeks. “I haven’t seen you since the morning. I shouldn’t work weddings if it doesn’t let me see you as often.”

Steve’s ears burned. “You’re seeing me right now.”

Bucky hummed noncommittally and squeezed Steve’s arm. “I’ll try to get these bouquets done and join you, you look all alone here.”

Natasha gasped in mock offense. “Excuse me, I’m right here.” 

Bucky sent a genuine smile and an eyeroll her way before returning to the back room. The moment he was gone, Nat snapped her fingers in front of Steve’s face. 

“Hey idiot,” she said, “pay attention, Captain Crush, Bucky clearly likes you back.”

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face. “I—I wasn’t sure, honestly.”

“Steve, he was literally flirting with you.”

“I should go for it then?”

Nat just groaned and lay her head on the counter. 

Steve laughed at her misery. He thought of the way that everything had led up to this point. He and Bucky meeting, becoming friends, seeing each other everyday. They were already close, there was only one logical next step, and Steve felt brave enough to finally take it. 

It took careful planning to pull it off. Bucky had to go to the plant supplier to pick up new plants for the store and instead of closing the store or getting Sam to fill in like he usually did for the couple of hours he would be gone, he’d asked if Steve could look after the store instead. Steve had obviously said yes, he’d been waiting for a chance to be in the shop alone without Bucky. It was a slow Thursday morning as usual and Steve took the opportunity to assemble the bouquet he’d carefully researched and ensured he would have flower supply for. Long gone were the shaking hands and hesitancy from when he’d made his first bouquet. With every day he spent at the shop, his confidence handling flowers and plants only increased. He sent a picture to Nat when he was done and immediately received a reply that said: _14/10, you’ll sweep him off his feet._

He waited patiently for Bucky to return, the bouquet hiding discreetly behind the cash. When Bucky entered the shop a couple of hours later, Steve’s heart rate skyrocketed with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. 

“Steve, can you help me bring the orders in?” Bucky asked as he rounded a shelf and came to stand in front of the cash counter. 

With words lodged in his throat, Steve could only pull out the bouquet from its hiding place and hold it out to Bucky, who took it with careful hands. 

“What’s this?” he asked.

“It’s for you,” Steve said, feeling his heart beat out of his chest, “from me.”

“Oh,” Bucky said quietly, and stared down at the bouquet. Steve knew he was thinking of the meaning of each of the flowers Steve had chosen. Camellias for longing, daisies for hope and a reminder of the way they had met, violets for loyalty and devotion, and peonies for bashfulness and compassion. Steve hoped Bucky would understand what he was trying to say. 

A slight flush had started to travel up Bucky’s cheeks. “No one’s ever given me flowers before.”

Steve felt so enamoured with him. His hands were shaking and he placed them gently atop Bucky’s own, the bouquet between them. 

“You’re my closest friend, Bucky,” he said and before he knew it Bucky had surged up and placed his lips on Steve’s in a gentle kiss. 

Bucky’s lips were soft, thanks to the lip balm Steve always saw him applying to his mouth. This close he smelled enticingly sweet. 

The kiss was quick and Bucky slowly reared back, staring into Steve’s eyes with an expression of bashfulness and awe on his face. His hair was curly, the humidity making it frizz, and there was a stray curl that had escaped his headband and was bouncing on his forehead. Again, Steve thought of how stunning Bucky was. It wasn’t just his face and hair and stormy grey eyes, but the kindness Steve always saw there, ingrained in the laugh lines around his mouth and crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. He was a wondrous thing, and Steve couldn’t believe he was on the receiving end of such wonder. 

Steve’s own face was flushed, a mirror to Bucky’s, and he found that any words he had previously prepared had now evaporated from his tongue. 

Bucky, who always knew exactly what to say at the right time, spoke first, “Not many people bother looking up the meanings of flowers.”

“There were different meanings on different websites online,” Steve admitted, his thumbs caressing Bucky’s knuckles in his hands. “I used the book you have in the back.”

“That’s thoughtful. Many people generally go with roses,” Bucky said, a smile at the upturn of his lips.

Steve knew that. He’d seen the people who came into the store to buy loved ones flowers and always insisted on roses, much to Bucky’s hidden disappointment. Roses had their uses, as Bucky always said, but Steve had thought he deserved something different with a deeper meaning. 

“I’d like to take you on a date, Bucky,” Steve said, watching Bucky’s face carefully. He felt that they were alway heading in this direction, and now that he was sure Bucky returned his affections, he wanted nothing more than a relationship with him.

“I’d say we’ve already been on many,” Bucky teased, and Steve was always blessed to be able to see this playful side of him. But Bucky’s words settled any doubts in Steve’s chest. It was relieving to know that he wasn’t alone in thinking that there was something between them that was more the friendship. 

“I guess not much will change between us then if we’ve already been dating for months,” Steve said.

“One thing will change, I can do this now,” Bucky said and leaned up to kiss Steve again. 

Steve’s hands immediately went around his waist and he couldn’t help but smile into Bucky’s mouth, overjoyed. The entire experience felt almost like a dream and Steve never wanted to wake up.

Bucky pulled back and Steve couldn’t help but cup one of his flushed cheeks, thumb gently caressing his cheekbone. “We can’t spend all day kissing,” Bucky said, “we do have a shop to run, you know.”

“Yeah, we do,” Steve replied but he didn’t let Bucky go, a hand at his waist and another at his face. “I just don’t want to let you go now that I have you.”

Bucky rolled his eyes with a fond smile. “Charmer. Well I’m not going anywhere. We just need to get the plants out of the car before the heat in there kills them.”

“Sam still hasn’t fixed his air conditioning?” Steve said. Bucky and Sam had swapped cars for the day. 

“Nope,” Bucky said and took the hand Steve had on his waist into his own and started tugging. “Now let’s go please.”

“Okay, okay,” Steve laughed and moved with Bucky out of the shop, hand in hand, because he was never going to be immune to Bucky or anything he asked from him.

And Bucky was right. Not much changed, except now the touches between them were done purposefully and the words were sweet and the kisses even moreso. Bucky was free with his affections, handing out kisses and caresses and sweet words whenever he could, and Steve was just the same. After months of pining after Bucky, he couldn’t imagine keeping his hands and lips to himself. This obviously, led to almost everyone they knew finding out about the change in their relationship easily.

Sam caught them in the flower cooler, exchanging soft kisses.

“Holy shit, it finally happened!” He exclaimed. 

Steve jumped back guiltily and said sheepishly, “surprise?”

“Y’all know you have a store to run out front?” Sam crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, but the act of pretending to be cross was foiled by the smile on his face. 

“It’s fine,” Bucky said.

“You know Barnes, as the co-owner of this store, I’d like it if your first priority was the shop.”

Bucky laughed. “Then as the co-owner you should go man the cash if you’re so worried.”

“Terrible business owner.” Sam shook his head. “But seriously, I’m happy for you guys, I’d had enough of Bucky pining after you, Steve.”

Steve glanced at Bucky. “Aw Buck, you were pining after me?”

Bucky punched him lightly in the arm. “As if you didn’t know this and weren’t pining yourself.”

“This is cute, but the shop,” Sam reminded them. 

“I have to finish this, Steve go take care of the storefront,” Bucky said and kissed Steve’s lips. 

Steve could only grin like a fool and do what Bucky asked. 

Dr. Merchant found out because Steve told her. 

“Yeah, so Bucky and I are together now,” he said awkwardly at one of their sessions.

“Oh Steve, congratulations!” She said. “This is a wonderful thing to hear.”

“Thank you,” Steve said, feeling embarrassed. “I’m just very happy, you know? Being friends with him was great, but this is even more.”

“I understand,” she replied. “While romantic relationships aren’t for everyone, for those of us interested in them, it can be very fulfilling to find someone we feel connected to.”

“You don’t think we’re moving too fast?” Steve asked in a moment of doubt.

“You’ve known him for months and you call his shop ‘our shop’,” Yasmin said wryly, “people move at different paces, there’s no right or wrong.”

“You’re right, this is the best thing that’s happened to me.”

“Alright, before our session got cut off last time, we were talking about your art, how’s that going?”

“I’ve started sketching,” Steve said, “nothing serious though, just doodles with a pen. But I want to do more.”

Yasmin took a sip of the travel mug she kept at her desk. “Remember what we talked about, you have to go at a pace that’s not going to overwhelm you. Do you feel ready to do something more?”

Steve sighed. “I do, but it would mean going to an art store, and I told you how it went the last time I went there.”

“Not necessarily, most stores will carry something as simple as pencils in a less daunting environment.”

“I want to be able to handle going into the art store, though,” Steve said stubbornly. “When I eventually move past just sketching, I’ll need to buy things like paint and easels from an art store, so I might as well try.”

“Have you thought of ordering materials online as an alternative?”

Steve’s nose wrinkled in slight disgust. “I know buying things online is great and really beneficial to some people, but I want to be able to see and touch things in real life when I’m buying something.” Steve knew it wasn't very modern of him to refuse ordering things online, but Yasmin was firm on the concept that he needn't adapt to everything in this technological era. 

"Alright, that's fair. Here's my assignment for you for this week then, go to an art store and buy the cheapest set of pencils, an eraser and a sharpener, if they come together in a bundle even better."

That seemed easy enough and the first thing he did after the end of their session was go to the art store nearby. It was less overwhelming the second time, since he remembered which aisle the pencils were in. With a specific goal in mind, it was easier to navigate the aisles and get to the pencils. It was admittedly still nerve wracking to be faced with a wall of hundreds of pencils in different packaging from different brands but Steve forced himself to look at the prices only. 

He found a pack of three pencils with an eraser and sharpener for ten dollars and grabbed it with a sense of accomplishment. Considering he was able to go in and out and check out without the slightest hint of a panic attack, he considered the task a success. For a second, he felt stupid that he couldn't handle such a simple task without a therapist's guidance and advice but he quickly berated himself for that train of thought. There was nothing wrong with needing help, even for the simplest things. 

He began bringing the sketchbook Bucky had gifted him and his pencils every day to the shop, sketching during the hours that were less busy. Bucky smiled every time he saw Steve holding the small sketchbook, but never tried to peek or see what Steve was drawing, knowing Steve would share when he felt comfortable. Steve appreciated the gesture like he appreciated every other little thing Bucky did. 

The days went by and they were Steve's happiest. The grass grew greener and the weather hotter and Bucky's skin became golden and his brown hair lighter. He seemed to thrive with the change in weather, as flowers bloomed and fruits ripened so did Bucky, becoming more beautiful with each day. Steve could only stare at him with wonder and love that he didn't bother to hide anymore. And Steve wasn't the only one looking. He caught Bucky staring at him multiple times, a smile playing at his lips. His cheeks would get darker than they already were when he noticed Steve catch him and Steve could only smile back delightedly. 

It was a good and simple life, made even better by the fact that Steve started spending his nights at Bucky's apartment after one night when his motorcycle wouldn't start. 

"Just stay the night," Bucky has said. "Stay all the nights, actually. I want you here and we're both too old to dance around each other."

And that was that. The day after Steve had returned to his apartment and gathered all essentials into a duffel back and hoped he'd never see that apartment again. His toothbrush found its place beside Bucky's, and his 2-in-1 shampoo survived one day on the shower rack before Bucky chucked it into the garbage and forced Steve to use one of the natural products the shop sold.

The domesticity was everything Steve ever wanted. He woke up to Bucky's face every morning and they always exchanged kisses before words. Bucky was teaching him to cook but they found that Steve had a knack for baking instead. And in the evenings Steve would be found baking something or another for Bucky to take to the youth shelter while Bucky read his newest book on the couch.

Their love was told to each other through takeout and sugary drinks and head massages and a sixty year old jade plant with roots full of stories. 

But the joy couldn't last and Steve had let his defences down, forgetting their history and the cruel world they lived in.


	3. Chapter 3

It was 1:27 PM on a Monday in the middle of July, and Steve and Bucky were both at the shop. Steve was unpacking new vases onto a shelf and he had to stop and smile fondly when heard Bucky huffing. He glanced at the cash counter where Bucky was busy writing customer messages on cards to go with bouquets that needed to be delivered. He was deep in concentration, but a stray lock of hair had escaped his bun and was dangling in his face. Steve watched as he blew air up to move the hair away only for it to return to its place blocking his vision.

Steve could only watch him struggle for so long so he abandoned his vases and moved to stand behind Bucky. There were no customers in the shop and Steve bent down to kiss the nape of Bucky's neck. Bucky hummed and leaned back into him.

"Let me redo your bun, sweetheart," Steve said and pulled out the elastic holding Bucky's hair together.

"Thank you," Bucky said and continued working as Steve gathered his hair up. 

Steve took the time to run his hands through Bucky's soft hair and watched over his shoulder as Bucky copied customer's notes from the computer to cards. Steve had learned that Bucky had the uncanny ability to change the font of his hand writing at will, and he watched now as Bucky wrote in pretty looping cursive. 

“You should go grab us lunch before your stomach starts growling and you get grumpy,” Bucky said. 

Steve finished tying Bucky’s hair and pretended to be offended. “I don’t get grumpy.”

“No, you get hangry. Now go, you’re distracting me, the delivery person’s coming soon and I have to finish these.”

“Alright, alright,” Steve laughed and stepped back, checking that his wallet was in his back pocket. “Any requests?”

“Pad thai?” Bucky asked. “I know it’s a little far but—”

Steve interrupted him with a soft press of their lips. “You got it, Buck, be back soon.”

Bucky only nodded, distracted by his task and Steve sent one last fond smile his way before heading out the store. He opted for walking instead of taking his bike; the streets were annoyingly busy at this time of day for a motorcycle to weave through and the weather was nice for walking. 

It took him fifteen minutes to get to the restaurant and another twenty waiting for his order. By the time he had the takeout bag in his hands and was walking back to _Barnes Blooms_ , there was anxiety bubbling in his stomach. It felt strange being apart from Bucky and something in his gut was telling him something was wrong. 

Irrationally, he felt his legs carrying him quicker and by the time he reached the front of the shop he was in a sprint. 

“Bucky?” He called when he entered the shop.

But the shop was silent, and dread slowly crawled up Steve’s throat. He dropped the takeout bag to the floor and walked towards the back of the store, hoping that he would see Bucky’s smiling face there. 

What he found was much worse. The back room was trashed. Flowers and plants and ribbons littered the floor. The glass walls of the large cooler where Bucky made bouquets and stored flowers were shattered. The signs of a struggle were obvious, dents in walls and blood splatters on the ground and the tattered remains of the light pink apron Bucky had been wearing today. Steve kneeled down and held the remains of the apron in his hands, a sudden attack of nausea and panic and anger overwhelming him. 

He felt blinded, kneeling there in the destroyed remains of something Bucky had put so much work into. Helpless, he texted Nat an SOS message and within a quarter of an hour she had barged into the shop.

“Steve?” She knelt down in front of him. “Where’s Barnes?”

Steve shook his head. “I— I don’t know. I went to grab us lunch and came back and he was gone. They took him.”

“Alright, get up, one thing at a time,” Nat ordered, standing up. “Lock up the shop, we’re going to the tower.”

Steve nodded, numb, and forced himself to release his grip on Bucky’s apron and let it fall. He could barely stand to look at all the destroyed flowers in the backroom, flowers that Bucky loved deeply. The keys to the shop were in a drawer beneath the cash and Steve grabbed those and locked up Bucky’s apartment and the shop entrance, turning the _open_ sign to _closed_ with an aching heart. 

Considering Steve was in no state to drive, he rode behind Nat on her motorcycle as she zoomed between cars at a speed that put the speed limit to shame, breaking multiple traffic laws. 

Bruce and Clint were already there when Steve and Nat reached the tower.

“I checked surveillance videos in that area,” Clint said, “But during the time you were gone only one person entered the shop. No one left.”

He pulled up a security video of the street in front of the shop, and Steve watched as a normal grey sedan pulled up in front of the shop, and a man exited the car and entered the store. The video accelerated through thirty minutes until Steve appeared. 

“They must’ve taken him through the back entrance that leads up to his apartment,” Steve said hollowly. 

“Do we know who ‘they’ is?” Bruce asked.

“Hydra, who else?” Steve snapped. He felt immediately guilty at yelling at Bruce and started pacing around the room in a quiet fury. “Who else would go after him when his entire identity and past are hidden from everyone but two organizations, SHIELD and HYDRA. They’ve been hiding under our noses and we never knew.”

“Great, so Hydra’s back,” Clint muttered.

“They’ve always been back, Clint, we just didn’t know they were here in the US,” Nat said. 

“They can’t have gotten far,” Steve said, “how do we figure out where they’ve taken him?”

“They must have a base nearby, Clint, run a search for any abandoned building within a 100 mile radius, probably something with a large underground portion.”

Steve laughed hysterically. “So what, we’re going to go search every abandoned building in New York? By the time we’re done they could be halfway across the ocean.”

Nat stood up from her chair and faced him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Steve, this is Barnes we’re talking about, have faith in him.”

Steve let out a frustrated breath and ran a hand through his hair. He knew Bucky could take care of himself but he was afraid, afraid Hydra would do something to him, make him _forget._

"Wait!" Bruce said and started hurriedly typing away at the computer in front of him. "Bucky's arm emits a low energy pulse every 24 hours when it recalibrates. It was something he and I designed to make sure it doesn't overheat."

"Can you track the energy signature when the arm pulses?" Nat asked. 

"Yes," Bruce said and glanced nervously up at Steve. "But the arm's timed to release every day at nine am. There's nothing to track until tomorrow."

"Fuck!" Steve yelled. He stormed out of the room before he took out his anger on the fancy computers and furniture. He leaned against the wall outside in the hallway and stared out through the full length glass windows onto the sprawling city before. 

He slammed his fist against the wall behind him and closed his eyes tightly shut. He wanted to scream. How could things change for the worst so quickly. Yesterday at this time, he and Bucky had had a picnic lunch, taking turns feeding each other food and dozing and kissing on a large blanket Bucky had woven himself. Now, Bucky was who knows where and Steve was standing here, helpless. 

All this strength and power in his body but he could do nothing, defeated by time once again. He could only hope and have faith that Bucky was alright. 

He opened his eyes when he heard Nat leave the room and come to his side.

"We'll find him, Steve."

Steve could only nod. 

He didn't sleep that night, haunted by endless scenarios of Bucky in Hydra’s hands. At eight am the next day, he was dressed in his stealth suit, armed and ready with his shield on his back as he paced around the small lab that contained the equipment necessary to read the energy pulse that Bucky's arm would release. Bruce was already there, calibrating the system to search for what they needed. 

At half past eight, Nat walked in, dressed and armed. "Clint's getting the quinjet ready so we can leave right away."

The next thirty minutes were some of the most anxiety inducing. Steve paced and readjusted the straps on his gloves over and over. 

At nine am on the dot, an energy signature was detected on Bruce's computer and he exclaimed, "they're in New Jersey, I sent the coordinates to the quinjet, go!"

Steve had never ran faster in his life. The flight on the quinjet took twenty minutes. The Hydra base appeared to be in an abandoned one story farm with sprawling land. Clint landed the quinjet on the overgrown plot of land and the three of them ran out across the field towards the house. Nat led them, a gun held ready in her hand. 

The front door to the farm was unlocked and led directly into an old living room filled with rotting wooden furniture. 

"Steve, check the room to the right, Clint check for a basement, I'll look around back," Nat ordered. 

Steve nodded. With his shield held out in front of him, he entered the room to the right. It was a kitchen, falling apart with age but empty of any sign that someone had been here before them. The thick layer of dust on the counters and floor was untouched, and Steve's footprints on the ground were the first.

"No," Steve whispered, horrified. Where was Bucky?

"Uh, guys?" Clint's voice sounded in the comm at his ear. "You need to come down here."

Steve was already running before Clint even finished his sentence. The staircase leading to the basement was located at the back of the house, surrounded on either side by walls with dingy browning floral wallpaper. 

When he reached the bottom step and entered the basement, Clint came to stand in front of him and block his view. "Wait, Steve, it looks bad."

Heart in his throat, Steve pushed Clint aside and stepped further into the basement with its concrete walls that were empty save for one item on the ground covered with a white cloth. 

By the shape of it, Steve already knew what it was but utter shock still ran through him when he kneeled down and flipped the white cloth over to reveal what was under. 

It was Bucky's metal arm. _It was Bucky's arm._ He knew it was Bucky's arm because he knew the grooves and dents and scratches on it by heart, because the pink flower sticker that a young boy had put on his bicep was still there, because Steve had held that arm and that hand countless times. 

Steve's immediate reaction was devastating nausea, and he was suddenly dry heaving onto the ground beside him, his head pounding with grief. 

He heard Nat enter the basement and she whispered, "shit."

He knew, sensibly, that Bucky's arm was easily detachable, he'd seen Bucky detach it to sleep many times. What drove him past sadness and into anger was the thought of Hydra stripping away Bucky's autonomy like that. Did they leave the arm here to mock Steve? Or to stop SHIELD from being able to track and find Bucky via his arm's energy signatures? 

Furious, Steve wiped the spit of his mouth and stood up. "Ask Bruce to check for any aircrafts in the area in the last 24 hours," he told Nat. "There were no tracks on the road, they came and left by air."

Nat nodded and started walking back up the stairs, already speaking into her comm. 

"We'll find him, Steve," Clint said. 

Steve made a noise of agreement and knelt down to cover Bucky's arm with the white cloth and pick it up into his arms. He wouldn't just find Bucky, Steve was going to rip apart Hydra piece by piece until not even a memory of them existed. 

They returned to the quinjet where Nat was talking to Bruce via video. 

“I’m having Jarvis check satellite videos right now,” Bruce said. 

Steve sat down with Bucky’s arm in his lap, barely containing the absolute anger that whirled inside him. Nat was watching him warily, but he ignored her. He knew she was worried about him, but Steve was more worried about Bucky. In a moment of selfishness, he thought _what if they make him forget?_ He abolished that thought immediately. What was important was to get Bucky. Steve couldn’t imagine what he was going through right now, back in the hands of the people who had stolen 70 years and his identity from him.

“Okay,” Bruce said from on screen, “Jarvis tracked an aircraft that was here last night, it’s currently landed on the other side of the country in Washington. Clint, I've sent you the coordinates. The base is a two story building, seems like they're working under the cover of it being a car parts manufacturing plant."

“Alright, here we go,” Clint said from the pilot seat. 

“You sure you don’t want backup?” Bruce asked.

“We’ll be okay, Bruce, see you back at the tower,” Nat said and closed the video feed. 

“We should be there in two hours,” Clint announced. 

“Alright, we’re going into this with zero intel about this base. We don’t know how many agents they have or what sort of defenses and weaponry, we need to be careful,” Nat said, and looked pointedly at Steve. 

Steve huffed. “I’m not going to do anything that puts Bucky’s life at risk.”

“It’ll be a simple extraction, we get in and get him out,” Nat ordered. “We’re not going to be able to destroy the base, that’ll be for whoever SHIELD sends after.”

"I'll drop you on top of the building and land the jet in front and cause a diversion. Should give you enough time to find Barnes," Clint said.

"Just don't blow up the base with us still inside," Nat teased dryly. 

Clint laughed. "The quinjet doesn't even have any weapons."

Nat rolled her eyes. "Just don't be an idiot."

"Will do," Clint replied cheekily. 

The next two hours were spent in relative silence. Steve was too out of sorts and worried to engage in any type of conversation. The two hour trip was spent with his leg bouncing anxiously. How could he have been so unaware, letting Hydra grab Bucky like it was nothing? He’d gotten too comfortable in his domestic life with Bucky and forgot that threats were always hiding around the corner. With Hydra out there and now in the US, Bucky’s safety was always going to be at risk. 

"ETA five minutes now, get ready to drop and roll,” Clint said.

Steve stood up and placed Bucky's arm gently on the seat he vacated, exchanging it for his shield in his hands. He and Nat made their way to the back of the quinjet and stood by the cargo door.

"Let me lead on this," Nat said. "I've had experience with their bases."

"I trust you," Steve said, simply. He knew Nat wouldn't lead him astray. 

"Here we go," Clint said, "good luck down there."

The cargo door lowered to reveal a flat concrete ceiling a few meters down and Nat and Steve leaped down, landing soundlessly on their feet and rolling to decrease the force of the impact.

"Let's go," Nat whispered and pointed to a hatch on the floor. 

It was of course locked, but a few hits with Steve's shield dented the hatch enough for them to pull it open. Nat dropped through first and checked that it was clear before Steve followed. They were in a nondescript hallway with ugly fluorescent lighting on the ceiling and two directions in which they would go. 

"Which way?" Steve asked quietly.

"We need to go downstairs, staircase is probably that way," Nat replied and pointed to their right. 

Steve nodded and followed her down the hallway. They reached a double door which led to a staircase and walked down, Steve protecting both of them with the shield with Nat’s gun held above it to disarm any Hydra agents they’d meet. As they rounded the corner on the way down to the landing, the door to the first floor burst open in a whirlwind and a dozen Hydra agents swarmed through. 

In a practiced move, Steve frisbeed the shield at the agents and grabbed Nat by the hips, launching her into the air at the crowd. Nat shot two of them while she was in the air before landing with her legs around an agent’s neck and flipping him over. Steve charged at the two agents heading his way. He elbowed one in the neck, giving him a good kick in the kneecaps while shoving the heel of his palm into the other’s nose. 

One of them had a knife Steve didn’t see and he got a deep cut on his cheek for his troubles. Steve swore and grabbed the agent’s hand, disarming the knife with a flick of his wrist. He twisted the man’s arm behind his back and slammed his face against the stairwell railing. 

An agent grabbed Steve’s neck in a chokehold and Steve grabbed the arms around his neck and crouched. He heaved the man over his neck and over the railing, to the staircase further below the landing. He turned around just to see Nat stun the last standing agent with her widow bites. 

Annoyed at being ambushed, Steve huffed and picked up his shield from where it had landed. “Let’s go,” he told Nat. 

They entered the first floor, and checked each room they walked by, all empty. 

“Where is he?” Steve muttered. If they were too late, if Hydra had already taken Bucky elsewhere, Steve didn’t know what he would do. 

He walked beside Nat warily as they approached an intersection of hallways. Suddenly, a group of agents crossed the intersecting hallway ahead in a hurry. Steve and Nat froze but the agents didn’t notice them as they crossed and disappeared. 

“They didn’t notice us,” Nat commented. 

“Where were they going in such a rush?” Steve frowned. 

“One way to find out,” Nat grinned. “My gut tells me Bucky’s where they’re headed.”

“Let’s get ‘em then,” Steve said, and they both took off in a run, rounding the corner just to see that the Hydra agents were already pre-occupied in a fight. 

With none other than Bucky, Steve noticed. He held a gun in his only hand and the hilt of a knife in his mouth. He was bloody and disheveled and absolutely feral and Steve had never felt such an immense sense of relief at seeing someone. The way he moved was full of gracefulness that was scary. Even with only one arm, he was ruthless and awe-inducing. He took every agent that came at him like they were nothing, ducking and stabbing with the knife in his mouth while he shot and disarmed someone else with his hand. Steve theoretically knew Bucky was excellent at combat based on his history, but it was another thing to see it in real life. 

“Don’t stand there like an idiot, help him,” Nat said and ran into the crowd of agents surrounding Bucky, wrapping her grappling hook around one’s neck. 

That snapped Steve out of his reverie and he followed after her. He bashed the shield at the back of one agent's head while kicking another in the stomach, sending him flying into a wall. It wa

s a mess of a fight, too many agents to keep track of. Steve got his own share of hits and shots. When he turned around after finally taking down an agent that just wouldn't give up he turned to see how Nat and Bucky were doing and found them tag teaming the last standing agent, a giant hulk of a man. 

Like they'd done this a hundred times, Bucky kicked the man backwards towards Nat who stunned him in the neck and and caught his blindly flailing arms, allowing Bucky to go for a stab in the gut that brought the agent down, Steve noticed, but didn't kill him. 

The moment the agent was down Steve rushed over and enveloped Bucky in a hug, not caring that they were both bloody sweaty messes. "Goodness Bucky, I was so worried," he pulled back to look at Bucky's face and smiled. "Though I see now you had everything under control."

"What're you doing here, Steve?" Bucky asked and he didn't sound or look happy to see Steve.

Steve was taken aback. 

"We came to save you, you dumbnut," Nat said, wiping blood from her lips. "Now let's get going, Clint's waiting above." 

"Bucky—" Steve started, but Bucky interrupted. 

"Save it, Steve," he said and holstered his knife to his thigh before following Nat the way they came. 

Shocked, Steve couldn't reply and just followed them numbly, staring at the back of Bucky's head. His normally cleanly washed hair was greasy and clumpy and the way he held his body up rigidly and full of threat was nothing like the Bucky Steve knew. He knew it was still the Bucky he loved underneath there; no one was the same in a fight, even Steve turned into a version of himself he didn't recognize. But Bucky had never acted in such a hostile manner towards him and Steve felt lost. _What did I do?_ He asked himself. 

In a stroke of rare luck, they encountered no Hydra operatives on the way back to the roof. The quinjet was waiting for them and they quickly jumped up through the cargo hatch and inside. 

"You got him?" Clint asked from the cockpit. 

"Get us out of here," Bucky answered for himself. "This place is going to blow soon." 

Nat took a seat and began cleaning herself using a cloth. "You set explosives? What about intel?"

Bucky pulled a USB out of his pants pocket and tossed it to Nat. "I got everything. You guys didn't need to come, I had everything under control." 

"I'm allowed to worry about you," Steve said in a burst of anger. "You can't just suddenly disappear and expect me to sit and do nothing." 

Bucky softened at that and raised a hand to Steve's cheek, hovering over the cut there. "I just didn't want you to get hurt."

"Newsflash Bucky, I get hurt on missions all the time," Steve said, and took a deep breath to force himself to calm down. "You had to have known I'd come after you."

Bucky sighed. "I was hoping you wouldn't."

Steve frowned and stepped back, a sudden realization coming to him. He distinctly remembered Bucky asking him to leave and get lunch from a restaurant that was farther away during the time the delivery driver/Hydra agent was supposed to come.

"You knew?" Steve asked quietly, betrayed.

"Steve," Nat began, looking at them warily. 

"Did you know too?" Steve asked her. 

"She didn't," Bucky said firmly. "I'm the only one who knew, it was supposed to be a one man operation. I had a feeling the shop was being watched and suspected the delivery driver was gathering intel."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Steve asked helplessly. 

"You wouldn't have let me follow my plan," Bucky said. "We knew Hydra had recently entered US soil, but we had zero intel. I knew they'd come after me sooner or later, and I took my chance. I would've been perfectly fine whether you came or not."

"You should've asked for help or back up," Steve said, swallowing.

Bucky looked lost and frustrated. "But I knew I'd be fine."

"I— I can't do this right now, we'll talk at home," Steve said and took a seat beside Nat. He didn't want to have their first argument in front of Nat and Clint. 

He watched as Bucky's hand clenched tightly and he walked out of the back and into the cockpit taking the free co-pilot's seat beside Clint. Steve couldn't comprehend what was happening, how things went so wrong so fast. 

"Steve," Nat murmured quietly, "you have to understand that he's used to being alone and doing missions on his own. He doesn't want to see you get hurt, especially at the hands of Hydra."

"I _have_ been hurt by Hydra," Steve argued. "I just want to support him in whatever he chooses to do. I wouldn't have stopped him from doing this, I would've only wanted him to have a fail safe." 

"Then tell him that," Nat said simply. 

_I will,_ Steve thought fiercely, _he's never going to feel like he's alone ever again._

Steve and Bucky were dropped off at Bucky's building, with a promise from Nat that'd take care of the follow up with SHIELD. They walked up the stairs to Bucky's apartment, bypassing the front entrance of the shop and the mess that the backroom was. Bucky was carrying his arm and Steve was carrying his shield and Steve was the one to unlock the apartment door, because he had Bucky's keys with him. 

They stood in the middle of the living room, a strange silence between them that had never existed before in all the time they'd known each other. Steve found it suffocating and he didn't know how to fix it. 

All he could do was say, "you can shower first," to break the silence.

Bucky nodded wordlessly and walked down the hallway to the bedroom. Steve placed the shield on the floor against the entryway and walked into the kitchen area. He could hear drawers being opened in the bedroom and then the sound of the bathroom door closing and the shower being started. He didn't know when the last time Bucky had eaten or if Hydra had even fed him so he opened the freezer and pulled out some bread Bucky had baked and frozen lasagna. He threw both in the oven to reheat and took a seat at the small round table in the corner. 

It was late afternoon, and Steve watched life pass by outside the window. The taco stand across the street was open and a group of high schoolers were waiting for their orders, shoving each other and laughing. The world outside was in constant motion, but here, in Bucky’s apartment, everything felt like it was at standstill, like they were at the edge of a precipice and one wrong move or word would sway things to the worst. 

He noticed that the pothos plant trailing down from the windowsill was wilting and he picked it up to water under the sink faucet. When he heard the shower shut off, he pulled the bread and lasagna out, and plated half of it before returning the rest back into the oven. Bucky emerged from the washroom in a blue pyjama set decorated with penguins. His feet were bare on the hardwood and his hair was wet and he looked vulnerable like this. Steve found that his absence the last few days was unbearable, and now that he had him back he never wanted Bucky to leave his sight ever again. 

They passed each other in the hallway as Steve went take his turn at the shower. “I heated up some food,” he told Bucky softly, and made his way into the bedroom. 

He pulled out underwear, sweatpants and a t-shirt from his side of the dresser and proceeded to the bathroom. There, he took off his uniform and threw it in the washing machine before showering. It was probably the quickest shower he’d ever taken, desperate to get back to Bucky. He toweled down when he was done dressed in a hurry, hair dripping onto his t-shirt. Bucky was still eating at the corner table and Steve plated the rest of the food in the oven before joining him by the window. They ate silently for a bit, and when Steve’s mouth was stuffed with food Buck chose the moment to speak. 

“I’m sorry for not telling you,” he said, staring down at his plate. “It was the perfect opportunity to infiltrate and gather intel on their American operations. I’ve had first hand experience at what Hydra are capable of and I know how much they want their hands on another supersoldier, so I was terrified you’d get involved and something would happen to you, that they would take you from me.”

Steve swallowed and put his fork down so he could reach out and take Bucky’s hand in his across the table. “Bucky,” he murmured sadly, “I was scared they’d take _you_ from me.”

“I’m sorry, I should’ve trusted you.”

“And I’m sorry for making you feel like I wouldn’t support you,” Steve said. “I’ll always have your back, Bucky, we’re in this together.”

“To the end of the line.” Bucky smiled, tears in his eyes and said, “it feels like I haven’t seen you in years, come here, I never want to be parted from you ever.”

Steve stood up and moved towards Bucky who dragged him into his lap. With the window wide open and the rickety chair unlikely to hold their weight, they kissed tenderly, grasping at wet hair. They kissed until their lips were bruised and they were both flushed with desire. 

Steve pulled back, breath heavy and said, “bedroom?”

Bucky’s answer was another rough kiss and they practically ran towards the bedroom, hand in hand. They collapsed on the bed in a heap, too busy kissing to even attempt taking their clothes off. With unbridled passion, they rutted against each other, the pleasure a spark travelling through Steve’s body. 

“I love you, I love you,” he murmured over and over between kisses.

It was like a fire had ignited inside Steve, he couldn’t stop running his hands all over Bucky and bringing all points of contact between them as close as possible. Bucky was the same, but he was gentler, soothing Steve with touches and looks that conveyed absolute devotion. When Bucky came in the throes of pleasure, he was a magnificent sight, a painting put to life. His hips hitched against Steve’s and he moaned, low in his throat, mouth slack and eyes closed in pleasure, hair splayed out on the pillow beneath his head. 

With such a sight before him, Steve followed soon after with his own orgasm, his moan swallowed up by a kiss from Bucky. He collapsed beside Bucky on the bed, both of them on their backs and out of breath. Steve stared at the ceiling, still shivering with aftershocks of pleasure. Bucky rolled to his side and put his arm around Steve’s stomach and his head on Steve’s chest. 

“I love you, Steve.”

Steve kissed the top of his head, heart pounding at the pure affection in Bucky’s voice. At this moment, with Bucky at his side, the events of the last couple of days seemed like they were a lifetime ago. Nothing mattered when they were here in their little bubble. The only thing that mattered were the spaces where their skin touched and their quiet breaths and soft words. 

They went to sleep like that, curled around each other and so desperately in love. 

Steve was the first to wake the next morning, and he took the opportunity to make breakfast for Bucky before he woke. He mixed together the ingredients for a huge dutch baby pancake, and while that was in the oven, he set to cutting fruit and making tea. By the time the thirteen minutes to bake the pancake were done, Bucky still hadn’t woken despite the sweet smell wafting through the apartment. 

Frowning, Steve turned off the stove where the kettle was whistling and made his way back to the bedroom. Bucky was still curled up in bed, and Steve knelt on the ground by the edge of the bed.

“Bucky, sweetheart?” 

Bucky groaned, eyebrows pinched in pain. His eyes fluttered open, little slits of blue. 

“Migraine?” Steve whispered.

Bucky nodded with a grimace and Steve swore lightly under his breath. Days when Bucky woke up with a migraine were never good days, and Steve always struggled to sit there and be unable to take his pain away. He stood up and filled a glass of water from the sink before returning to their room and grabbing Bucky’s migraine medication off the bedside table. 

He helped Bucky sit up slowly, and popped a pill from the prescription packet, placing it in Bucky’s mouth and helping him sip the water to swallow it down. Steve placed the glass down and gathered Bucky in his arms, who slumped heavily against his side. 

“Any nausea?” Steve asked quietly, running his hand gently through Bucky’s hair.

Bucky shook his head, and Steve considered that a win. The food Steve had prepared was ignored for the time being, Bucky wouldn’t have any appetite for food any time soon. The medication typically took up to an hour to work, and when two hours passed and Bucky was in the same state of pain, Steve became increasingly worried. 

“Should you go to the hospital or the tower?” Steve asked.

Bucky shook his head minutely from where it was laying on Steve’s lap. “This happens every once in a while,” he said softly, giving Steve a weak smile. “I’ll be better by tomorrow.”

Hesitantly, Steve asked, “so it’s random? They didn’t do anything when they had you?”

“No, I promise,” Bucky replied and snuggled further into Steve’s lap like an over affectionate cat, “more hair touching, please.”

That was a relief to hear, and Steve sighed, doing as ordered. He ran his hand through Bucky’s hair, gently massaging his scalp and temples. He hated this feeling of powerlessness, unable to do anything to take away the creases of pain on Bucky’s forehead. 

By the evening, Bucky was feeling marginally better and had enough appetite to drink some soup and eat some salted crackers. They were both in bed sitting up against the headboard, Bucky munching on crackers while Steve scarfed down shawarma takeout he'd ordered for himself. Bucky's laptop was between their legs, quietly playing some comedy movie neither of them were really paying attention to. 

"We've got to clean up the shop tomorrow and open," Bucky said quietly. "I can't imagine the backlog of orders and voicemails there probably is."

Steve looked at him pointedly. " _Only_ if you're feeling better."

"I seem to remember you having a broken leg and still working the cash the last time you were hurt," Bucky said, flicking Steve in the knee.

Steve grabbed his hand before he could inflict more damage to Steve's kneecap and laced their fingers together, using his free hand to shove fries into his mouth.

"A migraine is different from a broken leg," Steve mumbled, the food in his cheeks probably making him look like a chipmunk.

Bucky poked his cheek with his other hand. "Chew before you speak, what would your Ma think?"

Steve took exaggerated chews and swallowed. "My Ma was fine company, I'll talk and chew all I want with you." 

Bucky snorted. "Does the world know you're an absolute dork and idiot."

Steve laughed, absolutely delighted as he always was when Bucky teased him. "Hey! Look who's talkin'."

Bucky laid his head against Steve's shoulder, and stole a fry from Steve's takeout container. "I may be a dork but I'm not an idiot."

Steve rolled his eyes but didn't reply. He focused on finishing his meal and caressing Bucky's metal hand with his own. 

"We really do need to clean up the shop though," Bucky yawned. "I want to try to open by the day after."

Steve hummed. "Alright, get some rest, we'll figure it out in the morning."

He knew Bucky probably missed the shop deeply at this point, with it being days since he'd last been inside. Steve missed it too, with its friendly customers and colourful interior and comforting feel. He wanted nothing more than to be back there with Bucky, back to their normal routine and domestic shop life. But since the discovery of Hydra' presence on American soil, since Bucky's kidnapping, a dark uneasiness and worry lived in the back of Steve's mind. It wasn't something he could ignore, but he knew that for Bucky's sake, he had to push it down for some time and let their lives get back to normal before he did anything about it. 

The next morning Bucky was sans migraine, and after a hearty breakfast for both of them, they went downstairs to survey the damage to the backroom.

"Oh," Bucky said softly, sad when he saw the broken fridge and all the dead flowers on the ground. 

Steve could only kiss the side of his head in a gesture of comfort and say, "I'll call the cooler company, number's by the cash right?"

Bucky nodded, and Steve left him, knowing he needed a few moments alone. He found the number for the flower cooler company and checked the storefront as the call rang on his cellphone. Most of the plants were alright, though some looked miserable and wilting, but it was nothing some water wouldn't fix. 

The man he spoke to on the phone told Steve they'd have someone come and replace the cooler doors tomorrow and check that it was working soundly. With that figured out, Steve returned to the backroom to tell Bucky the good news. Bucky was starting to clean up the glass and flowers, though every sweep of the broom in his hands seemed to bring him pain. 

"Fridge people are coming tomorrow," Steve said and gently extracted the broom from Bucky's hands. "Why don't you go water the plants, I'll take care of this," Steve murmured, knowing the task and being around his plants would make Bucky feel better. 

Bucky gave him a small smile and a kiss, and walked to the sink area to fill up a couple of watering cans. The rest of the morning was spent in that manner, getting the shop cleaned up and ready for opening the next day. They fell into a steady rhythm as the plants were watered and the merchandise was restocked. Bucky went through the voicemails, calling each person back and taking their requests. Flower deliveries and orders had to be delayed by a couple of days until the cooler was fixed and new flower shipments came in from Bucky's favourite flower farm.

At one point, Steve asked Bucky if he'd told Sam of his absence, considering there were no worried calls/voicemails from him.

"He's at a conference, won't be back till next week," Bucky answered. 

For a moment, Steve felt betrayed that Bucky had planned his kidnapping to the smallest detail, knowing when Sam wouldn't be in the city so there was no risk of him being in the shop and getting involved in the crossfire. But Steve pushed the thought out of his head. He couldn't blame Bucky when he himself would be doing something stupid at some point in the coming weeks. 

The next day at noon, they opened the shop and set a display of plants outside on the sidewalk. The day was glorious, sunny and stunning and the sunlight brought an energy to Bucky's steps that Steve was happy to see. Rumour spread fast that the shop was open again, and many regulars stopped by, asking why the shop had been closed and if he and Bucky were alright. 

Bucky brushed off their worries easily, citing a family emergency and charming everyone with soft smiles and kind words. Steve loved to see him like this, blooming in his environment where he belonged, and vowed to himself that Bucky would never have to hold a weapon ever again as long as he didn't want to. Steve would never let Hydra get him again or threaten the happiness Bucky had here.

That train of thought led him to a meeting with Nat at the tower a few days later, with the Intel Bucky had snatched from the base between them. 

"This," Nat said, pulling a holographic map of the US between them, "is a map with the locations of all Hydra bases and safehouses in the country, according to the Intel from the Washington base." 

There were, much to Steve's absolute horror, over a two dozen red dots on the map. 

"Are you fucking kidding me," Steve said, the tone of his voice berating his anger. 

"Unfortunately, they're here and they've been here for a while," Nat said. "I'd say operations moved from Europe in the late sixties."

"How come we've never noticed?"

"You know how they work Steve, doing things behind the scenes. They've been much more discreet in their actions since the second World War."

Steve frowned and started at the red dots intently. "So they're on the inside then," he said quietly, for only Nat to hear. 

Nat nodded.

"SHIELD?" Steve asked, dreading the answer. 

"As far as I know and what I've looked at, no. But Steve," Nat said, "it's not SHIELD we should be worried about, this goes as high as the Secretary of Defense." 

Steve sat back in his chair and swore, raising a hand to rub at his eyes. "How do we take them down?"

Nat sighed. "It's not easy, we don't have any solid proof to indict anyone so we'll need to pay some of these bases a visit."

Steve knew what that meant. It meant weeks up to months of work and travel, weeks and months of not being here. 

"You don't have to be involved Steve, we have plenty of good agents who can handle this." 

"I have to." Steve swallowed, the words painful. "But I need time." 

Nat nodded in understanding. "You let me know when you're ready." 

And that was that. When Steve returned home that evening, Bucky was lounging on the couch, reading a book held above his head. He turned his head when he heard Steve enter and smiled sweetly. 

"Hey Steve."

Steve slipped off his shoes and collapsed softly on top of Bucky, tucking his face between Bucky's head and neck. Bucky placed the book on the coffee table and wrapped his arms around Steve, one hand scratching at the hair at the base of Steve's neck and the other slipping under his shirt to caress the small of Steve's back. 

"Rough meeting?"

Steve shrugged. 

"Alright, you talk when you need to," Bucky said kindly. "I was thinking, how about a picnic tomorrow?"

Steve made a thoughtful noise and lifted his head to look at Bucky's face. "Why don't we go camping, get out of the city for a bit?" He countered. 

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "Do you even know anything about camping?"

Steve grinned sheepishly. "Not really, but I was hoping you did."

"I think both of us did our fair share of roughing it out in the wilderness, we should go glamping instead.”

“Glamping?” Steve laughed at the ridiculous word. “What in the world is that?”

Bucky smiled, and the corners of his crinkled in a sight that made Steve’s heart beat faster in his chest. “It’s like luxury camping,” he answered, “instead of a tent, we can rent a small cabin with a washroom and kitchen. We can make our own food and shower and not have to sleep in the dirt.”

Unable to help himself, Steve kissed Bucky. “I’ll sleep anywhere as long as it’s with you.”

“Hm well in that case, let’s take a nap before dinner,” Bucky said and closed his eyes, arms tightening around Steve.

They didn't end up camping, or glamping rather, that weekend. Instead, Bucky booked them a nice little cabin in some national park a couple of hours drive away for the next Saturday. They spent the week leading up getting back into routine. Flower deliveries came in and Bucky spent a lot of time in the backroom getting bouquets and arrangements ready while Steve manned the cash and took care of the storefront.

They closed the store at noon the day of their trip, and hopped into Bucky's red Mini with groceries and personal toiletries and their favourite pillows and blanket. The cabin was a small wooden thing in the middle of the woods with backyard access to the lakefront. It was small and cozy and quiet, and the lake and woods were beautiful but Steve found none of that mattered when Bucky was right there. 

They slow roasted tomatoes in the oven to top a focaccia dough they had brought along with them to bake for dinner. They ate the bread on the dock, legs dangling in the cool water below, a cool bottle of sweet iced tea passed between them.

"This is really good dough," Bucky commented mid bite. "Your baking skills can rival mine now."

Steve knocked their shoulders together. "I learned from the best."

When they finished eating, they napped right there on the wooden boardwalk, their full stomachs and the warmth and sunlight lulling them to sleep. Steve woke up when the sun was low in the sky, turning the water into a mixture of blues and oranges. He sat up to find Bucky floating on his back nearby, his hair floating around his head like a burning halo and his metal arm gleaming in soft colours, highlighted in pink. 

Steve stared at him with a soft smile, absolutely besotted. He slipped into the water and swam over to Bucky gently, making sure not to produce any disturbances in the water that would affect his peaceful floating. Steve floated on his back beside him, and grabbed Bucky’s hand in his. They probably looked like those otters on the internet that floated side by side, holding paws. 

They didn’t speak, just floated silently for a while, and Steve found that he didn’t mind the quiet. Bucky’s presence by his side spoke enough. 

That night, after showering and eating some more food, they sat at the stairs of the back deck and watched the darkening sky. Steve sat one step below between Buck’s legs, with Bucky’s arms around him and a blanket surrounding them both. Steve tipped his back to rest against Bucky’s chest and stared up at the starry night, something that couldn’t be observed in New York City skies. 

"This was a good idea," Steve said.

"Mhm," Bucky hummed and tilted Steve's head further back so he could kiss him upside down. 

Steve smiled into their kiss and mumbled an unintelligible "love you".

"I love you," Bucky whispered back, and in that moment, all the worries in the back of Steve's head vanished because he knew their love would make things okay. 

_The hardest part was surviving and finding each other,_ Steve thought, _the important thing is that we have each other now._

* * *

They had to leave the next day, and after a quick barbecue lunch and a final swim in the lake, they drove back to NYC. As much fun as it was at the cabin, being back at the shop and the apartment was a relief and brought immediate comfort to both of them. There was nothing like home and Steve could admit that _this_ was home, surrounded by plants and flowers and most importantly _Bucky._

It was quiet from that point on. Steve had asked not to be sent on any missions for the near future, and though Bucky was clearly confused at Steve's full time presence, he didn't comment and seemed happy with the change. Steve felt immensely guilty because he knew the current state was only temporary. The map of the Hydra bases was constantly at the back of his mind and he knew it would only be a matter of weeks before he had to join Nat on taking them down.

He didn't know how to break the news to Bucky that he would be leaving for an unknown amount of time or what Bucky's reaction would be. There were too many unknowns but for the time being, he tried to make the best of their time together. 

It was a couple of days after their weekend cabin trip and Steve was rushing back to the shop from the taco stand. He knew rationally that Bucky was alright, but after the last time he left to get them lunch and Bucky got kidnapped, leaving Bucky made him slightly anxious. 

He was expecting to find Bucky behind the cash making flower crowns for two brides that had their wedding this weekend. What he found instead was Bucky on his knees on the ground, laughing uncontrollably and with absolute joy as he petted a giant white and black border collie that was licking his face all over. 

Holding the dog's leash was one of their regulars and one of Bucky's fellow volunteers at the youth shelter, a young woman Vera. Steve approached them with a smile, paper bag of tacos still held in one hand. 

"Hey Vera," he greeted her, "did you get a dog?"

Vera shook her with a smile and said, "I'm just fostering her."

Bucky stood up and gently scratched the top of the dog's head, who was now looking at Steve with interest. Bucky smiled at Steve with flushed cheeks and bright eyes. "Steve, meet Sheppy."

"Hi," Steve said awkwardly and kneeled down to offer his hand for the dog to sniff. She must've liked him because she threw herself at Steve, causing him to drop the takeout bag. Steve laughed and immediately raised his hands to give her pets. 

"Why's she up for adoption?" He asked Vera. 

"Her previous owners couldn't handle her energy levels, she's a very excitable dog but otherwise really well behaved," Vera answered. "You're a good girl, aren't you Sheppy?"

Sheppey barked and Steve glanced at Bucky's face as he stared at Sheppy. He looked absolutely in love.

"Oof, I've got to go, I just wanted to drop by to say hi," Vera said, and checked her phone before tugging gently at Sheppy's leash. "Come on, Sheppy, time to go."

Sheppy whined and Bucky gave her fur one last ruffle. "Bye bye Sheppy."

"Thanks for dropping by, Vera," Steve said and picked up the taco bag when they were gone. He turned to Bucky. "Food time, I'm hungry."

They ate their tacos and went through the rest of the day as usual, but Steve could tell Bucky's mind was somewhere else. He wasn't his usual self and Steve bet he knew exactly why. Which is why when they were in bed later that night, getting ready for sleep, Steve turned to Bucky and said, "we should adopt Sheppy."

Bucky froze where he was sitting crossed legged, fluffing his pillow. He was dressed in nothing but tiny white boxers with red strawberries on them and his hair fell in waves around his face and Steve smiled dumbly at him like he was the most beautiful person, which he _was._

Bucky threw his pillow at Steve. "You better not be joking, Steven Grant Rogers."

Steve caught the pillow with a laugh. “I’m being 100% serious, you want her don’t you?”

Bucky flopped down beside Steve and smiled a little bashfully. “I really do, I’ve always wanted a dog.”

“Then let’s submit an adoption application,” Steve said and thought he would get a thousand dogs if it made Bucky smile like this.

“What if we’re not the right people for her?” Bucky asked hesitantly.

It was strange to see him being hesitant like this when Bucky was usually so confident and sure of everything he did and said. Steve felt comforted to know that Bucky felt safe being vulnerable around him. 

“Sweetheart, the shop opens at eleven and closes at six, we can take her with us for runs in the morning and play with her at the park in the evening. I’m sure two super soldiers could keep up with her energy levels,” Steve said. “She’s perfect for us, Bucky.”

“You’re right, absolutely right, let’s do the application right now,” Bucky said with a grin and sat up to pull the laptop from the bedside table into his lap. 

He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, because he typed the animal shelter’s website URL straight from memory into the search bar. Steve sat up beside him and gave him a pointed look at which Bucky sheepishly shrugged.

“I may or may not have already asked Vera for the adoption info,” Bucky said, and clicked away at the website. “She told me before you walked in that she’d put in a good word for us if we decide to apply.”

Steve shook his head fondly. “Alright what do we need to do to get approved?”

First they had to complete an online adoption application, which they did that night. The next morning as they were eating breakfast in their little nook, Bucky’s phone rang with a call from a woman at the shelter requesting they come in to see if they’d be a good fit for Sheppy. They set up an appointment for that evening after the shop closed, and Bucky was excitable the whole day. He was barely productive and Steve enjoyed seeing this highly enthusiastic side of him. Where normally, he was more on the quiet side, today he could barely stand still, gushing about what a beautiful dog Sheppy was and how lovely it would be to have her in the shop with them. 

Steve could only nod and smile, too enamoured with Bucky to offer anything of substance. He would be perfectly happy to be relegated to sit and stare at Bucky with heart eyes for the rest of his life. By the time they closed the shop and were on their way to the animal shelter, Bucky was practically vibrating in place. They walked instead of taking the Mini or the motorcycle, moreso for Bucky’s benefit so he could get rid of that excess energy he was harbouring. 

An older man was standing behind the counter when they entered the shelter and he looked up with a smile. “Hi there, my name is Lang, how can I help you?”

“We’re here for our meeting to adopt Sheppy,” Bucky said, and squeezed Steve’s hand.

“Oh perfect, Vera’s in the backyard with Sheppy, let’s head on there,” Lan replied and gestured for them to follow him. 

Bucky’s energy seemed to return tenfold and when they emerged from the building into the backyard, Bucky and Sheppy noticed each other and immediately started running towards each other. Bucky let Sheppy knock him over onto his back with a laugh. 

“Hi baby,” Bucky said, “you missed me? Because I missed you.”

“I think we’ve lost his attention,” Steve said to Lang, “I can deal with any of the adoption details.”

“Of course.”

“Bucky, I’m going to deal with adoption stuff, you have fun with Sheppy, alright?” Steve told Bucky, to which he received a thumbs up. 

Steve followed Lan back into the building and into a small office, where they sat across each other. 

“Alright, so the application you submitted online looks pretty good, I just have a couple of extra questions for you," Lang said, "First, what type of housing do you live in? I'm only asking this to make sure you have the space for an active border collie like Sheppy."

"We live in an apartment above the flower shop Bucky owns," Steve answered, hoping he sounded confident. "We've got plenty of space and there's a park nearby where we can talk Sheppy for some exercise."

"And how do your schedules work? Will you be able to spend enough time in the day with Sheppy? Border collies need quite a bit of attention."

Steve nodded. "We both work at the shop for the current time being so we're always going to have her around." Steve rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm uh— I get called out on missions sometimes so I won't always be there 24/7 but Bucky will."

Lang didn't even blink or make a comment about Steve being Captain America. "Alright, and are you planning to get pet insurance?"

"Yes," Steve said without missing a beat. There was no way they'd let anything happen to Sheppy.

"Well then, Steve, you're approved for adoption. You just need to sign these forms and pay the adoption fee."

"We can take her home today?" Steve asked.

Lang nodded. "If you'd like yes, we'll give you a doggy starter kit but you should head to a pet store as soon as you can for some longer term items. I'll give you a list, though I'm sure your partner already knows," he said with a kind smile.

Steve felt himself smile back. _Partner,_ he liked the sound of that. Steve signed the adoption forms and paid the adoption fee along with a hefty donation to the shelter.

He and Lang returned to the shelter's back yard where Bucky and Vera were playing fetch with Sheppy.

"Bucky!" Steve called and held up the temporary leash Lang had given him.

Bucky turned around and he immediately zeroed in on the leash. His face lit up and he rushed over, Sheppy bounding after him with a frisbee in her mouth. 

"We're approved?" Bucky asked breathlessly.

"You're a dog dad now, pal."

"You hear that Sheppy?" Bucky stopped down to rub Sheppy's ears. "You're coming home with us."

Sheppy barked and Steve smiled, his eyes only for Bucky and Sheppy, his family. 

They said their goodbyes to Vera and Lang and made their way to the pet store nearby, with Sheppy in tow. At the store, Bucky looked at the reviews of every product he was interested in on his phone first, only adding it to their cart if he approved. Every now and then, he asked for Sheppy's opinion, holding out this bowl or that bowl and seeing which she preferred. Steve thought the entire thing was adorable and simply stood back and let Bucky have his fun.

They only checked out the essential items for tonight since they didn't have a car with them. Things like bowls and food and poo bags they bought, and bigger items like dog beds and toys they ordered to be delivered the next day. The one item they couldn't leave the store without was the green collar decorated with white flowers that had lit up Bucky’s eyes when he saw it. They even got Sheppy a little gold tag for the collar with her name and their contact information in case she got lost. 

They took Sheppy straight up to the apartment, so not to overwhelm her with all the things in the shop downstairs on her first night. Bucky took to showing her around, guiding her around the apartment with running commentary about everything. Steve put away their new dog items and watched fondly from the kitchen as Bucky showed Sheppy the giant bookshelf in the living room.

"These are our books," he was saying. "Mine are all the sci-fi novels, Steve's the real art and history nerd, these giant heavy books are his. Oh and these are my sisters," he said, pulling down the black and white photo to show Sheppy.

Steve's heart clenched painfully at the sight. On one hand, he felt happy to see Bucky this overjoyed with Sheppy, but on the other hand he wished their families could be here with them, it was bittersweet. But it was so lovely to watch Bucky like this as he cooed soft words to Sheppy and treated her like she was the most precious thing. Steve had come to learn that Bucky had a naturally nurturing personality. Whether it was plants or people or dogs, Bucky loved taking care of things. Steve imagined that if they had grown up together, Bucky would have been the one to patch Steve up after all his brawls. The strength and selflessness Bucky showed was beautiful. Despite seventy odd years of torture and pain, he emerged with the need to give back and take care if others.

His gentle and calm personality didn't make him weak, it showed exuberant strength and willpower that Steve only hoped he could one day achieve. _If I can be a fraction of the person Bucky is without my shield_ , Steve thought, _I'll be a good man_. Because being a good person Steve had come to learn, wasn't necessarily taking down evil plots or fighting bad guys, sometimes it was making food for the youth shelter down the street or making a bouquet for free for an old man who wanted a bouquet for his wife's grave or a countless number of other things that brought small joys and kindness to other people's lives.

Since they didn't yet have a dog bed and neither of them felt comfortable letting Sheppy sleep alone on the couch, Sheppy ended up in bed with them later that night, curled up at the end of the bed by their feet. She fell asleep quickly and Steve was glad to see the quick comfort she felt with them. 

"Are you happy?" Steve whispered to Bucky. They were lying on their sides facing each other, with only the soft glow of the nightlight nearby they both needed to fall asleep. 

"I was already happy, with you," Bucky whispered back intimately. "I can only get happier with each day we spend together."

Steve felt himself blush in the dark because Bucky was always beautiful with his words, like he was with everything else in his life. "You're a flatterer, Bucky Barnes," Steve teased, "and if I can make you feel a fraction of the happiness you give me then that's all that matters."

Bucky leaned forward to kiss him. "You're a sap and so am I, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

Steve grinned because yes he was a sap and he kissed Bucky back until their eyes started drooping and they exchanged mumbled good nights. 

A new dog meant a new routine, and that began the next day. They had to set a routine for Sheppy and had to make sure they didn't feed her too soon before or after their morning run. They decided to all go for a run when they woke up. They all ate when they came back, Sheppy the highest quality dog food and Steve and Bucky whatever they were feeling up to that morning. 

They were careful with Sheppy on her first day at the shop, watching her carefully to make sure she didn't eat any plants and hurt herself. But despite her energetic personality, once she'd had a run and some playtime, she was a calm and relaxed dog, sitting by the cash and watching the goings of the shop as if she owned the place. The customers were absolutely in love with her, and she basked in the attention, getting all the pets a dog could ever want.

Bucky enjoyed introducing her to everyone and having her around and Steve enjoyed having her around and the way she made Bucky happy. It was a win-win situation, Sheppy was the perfect addition to their family. 

Their life became so very domestic and it was everything Steve had dreamt of one day having. Steve and Bucky cooked together and ate together and ran the shop together. They went grocery shopping and to the park to play with Sheppy. And each night they came home and slept beside each other, ending their day together.

Steve wanted nothing more than to stay but the thoughts of Hydra coming after Bucky haunted him. He wanted to preserve the peacefulness Bucky had now, and the only way he knew how was to eliminate every trace of Hydra. Steve couldn't just sit there knowing Hydra was out there, plotting their next attack. He would never feel safe, would always be worried about Bucky and looking over his shoulder. 

A couple of weeks after they adopted Sheppy, Steve felt it was the right time to tell Bucky of his plans. They were finishing up dinner one night at the apartment and Bucky, observant as always, must've noticed the change in Steve's mood because he said, "looks like you have something to say, I'm here when you're ready."

Steve smiled and relaxed minutely, knowing Bucky would always be calm and loving. “Bucky, you know I love you and everything we have here but we’re never going to be safe so long as Hydra’s out there,” Steve started.

Bucky frowned, a little crease between his eyebrows. “And you want to go after them.”

Steve nodded. “I don’t want to leave but—” Steve shrugged helplessly.

“But you have to do something,” Bucky finished. “I’m not going to pretend I’m happy about it because I’m not. That kidnapping was meant to be my last involvement with Hydra, and I don’t want you out there facing them either, but I understand this is something you have to do. I don’t like it but you know I’ll support you and be here waiting when you’re done.”

“I know and I don’t want to drag you back into this mess,” Steve said. “I just want to be able to live this life with you without any threats.”

Bucky sighed. “When do you leave?”

“Next Sunday.”

Bucky stood up and started clearing the dishes. “Guess we better make good use of the time we have, then.”

Steve did the same and when Bucky stood in front of the sink to start washing dishes, Steve stood behind him and wrapped his arms around him. He laid his chin on Bucky’s shoulder and kissed the curve of his jaw where it met his ear. 

“I love you,” Steve murmured, “and when I come back I’ll be done, I’ll retire, I promise.”

Bucky turned around in his arms and tucked his face into Steve’s neck. “I just want you to be safe, can you promise me that?”

Steve squeezed him tightly and kissed the top of his head. “I promise,” he whispered and hoped it would be true. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to everyone who's been reading and leaving comments!!!
> 
> [I'm on the tweet app!](https://twitter.com/bleuett_)


	4. Chapter 4

When the day came for Steve to leave for his crosscountry Hydra demolition roadtrip with Nat and other SHIELD agents, Steve and Bucky said their goodbyes in  _ Barnes Blooms  _ with Sheppy. The store was quiet with it being closed on Sundays and Steve knew that he was going to miss it deeply while he was gone. Most of all though, he was going to miss Bucky and Sheppy. 

Steve and Bucky were standing by the display of orchids, with Sheppy lying down by their feet and sniffing at Steve’s duffel bag and shield on the floor. Nat was waiting for Steve outside in a sleek black car. 

“I’ll come back,” Steve said. They were standing in front of each other and holding each other's hands.

“You haven’t even left and I’m waiting for you to come back,” Bucky said softly. His hair was up today and held together by that same blue daisy scrunchie he had been wearing the first time Steve saw him. For some reason, that made things all the more bittersweet. 

“I will come back,” Steve said firmly with a gentle squeeze to Bucky’s hands. “You’re the most important thing in my life Bucky, and I don’t want to be away from you one moment longer than I need to be.”

“Sheppy and I will miss you, won’t we Sheppy?” Bucky said and glanced down at the lounging dog. 

Sheppy barked a few times and Steve smiled at her and looked back at Bucky. “I’ll miss you both, remember we can still call and text and do the video chat thingy.”

Bucky pulled Steve closer by his hands till their faces were but a breath apart. “Expect a call every day, pal.” And then softly, he said, “please take care of yourself, don’t be Steve ‘I love danger and I don’t believe in parachutes’ Rogers, I want you back here in one piece.”

Steve grinned at the sass. “I promise I’ll use parachutes and be safe, I love you.”

“I love you,” Bucky replied and kissed him.

They spent a few minutes kissing, unable to let go until Nat honked the car horn, causing them to separate with a laugh. 

“Say bye to Steve, Sheppy,” Bucky said, and Steve kneeled down to give her a hug and pets. 

“Bye sweet girl, take care of Bucky for me, okay?” Steve said and stood up, feeling his throat constrict all of a sudden.

He glanced at Bucky who swallowed. “Go before I don’t let you leave,” he said.

“We’ll call,” Steve promised and picked up his duffel bag and shield. Sheppy whined at his sudden movement and Bucky kneeled down beside her as she tried to move after Steve. Heart in his throat, Steve left the store without looking back. If he looked back he wouldn’t be able to leave. He threw his stuff in the trunk and entered the passenger seat.

“All good?” Nat asked.

Steve cleared his throat. “Yeah, let’s go.”

“We’ll be back soon,” Nat said and pulled out of the parking spot.

_ We will,  _ Steve thought,  _ I promised.  _

* * *

It turned out that hunting Hydra down wasn’t that easy and took longer than Steve would have thought. They were an organization that had existed for decades, they weren’t going to be eradicated that easily. The plan was Nat, Clint, and Steve would start with bases on the east coast and a team of other agents would handle things on the west coast. You would’ve thought with two teams ,a couple of dozen Hydra bases between them, that this would be easy. It was anything but. 

Steve’s team started their trip by paying the base in Maine a visit. It was an absolute shitshow. They must’ve somehow known SHIELD were coming because by the time their quinjet arrived, the base had already been cleared along with any valuable intel destroyed. 

“They knew we were coming,” Nat said as they scoured the deserted base, searching for anything that Hydra might’ve left behind. 

Steve was pulling open empty drawers and slammed one shut. "How?"

"I don't know."

The next base on their list was in North Carolina, and when they got there the next day, all traces of Hydra were gone. 

"What the fuck," Clint muttered. 

Frustrated, Steve sighed. "How do they know?"

"They must be expecting this after Bucky raided their base and stole their Intel," Nat said. 

"Sure, I'll give them that," Steve said, "but we're choosing bases at random and there's over a dozen, how do they know which ones specifically we're going to?" Steve knew the answer, but he was afraid to say it, afraid of what it meant.

Nat and Clint shared a look and Clint said, "they're inside SHIELD." 

Steve swore and huffed. They really couldn't have one thing go well for them could they. "So what do we do?" 

"We don't tell SHIELD or the other team what base we're hitting next," Nat planned, "we do that until we find the intel that can expose Hydra and we drop it on the internet."

"That'll mean it's over for SHIELD," Clint mused. 

"If they're inside SHIELD, then the entire thing's corrupt, it's got to go," Steve said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

Nat sighed, "alright then, we're going rogue."

The plan was to hit up the Hydra base in Kansas state the next morning and hope it contained the Intel they needed. Nat thought it would, based on communications reported in the intel Bucky stole. It seemed like the communications originated from Washington but were diverted through the Kansas base. The fact that the communications originated from Washingron didn't bear well for the presence of Hydra in the government. Hydra really did have its ugly head everywhere. 

The night before their attack, they slept in the quinjet where it was parked on the roof of some nondescript abandoned building. Nat and Clint were sitting in the front, deep in conversation and Steve took the opportunity to make use of the privacy of the back section to call Bucky.

It was the first time they'd be talking since Steve had left two days prior. The call went through one ring before Bucky immediately picked up. 

"Steve?" Bucky's voice sent a wave of warmth that had Steve relaxing into his seat, a smile taking over his face.

"Bucky, sweetheart, I miss you," Steve said, his tone unbearably soft. "How are you?"

"Hi love, I miss you too. I'm well, so is Sheppy. How's the Hydra Hunter gig treating you?" Bucky teased.

Steve wanted to be beside him right now, enveloped in his arms and warmth and tenderness. "It's a mess," Steve admitted.

"Are you alright?" Bucky asked, voice serious and worried. 

"I'm fine," Steve answered hurriedly. "This just isn't as easy as I wanted it to be."

"Nothing ever is with Hydra," Bucky sighed, and Steve could hear him moving around by the sound of rustling sheets, and imagined him cuddled up warm on their bed, Sheppy keeping him company. "Do you need my help?" Bucky said, and he sounded hesitant.

Steve vetoed the idea immediately. "No, we've got a plan don't worry. You just keep the shop running and do what you love.” He took a deep breath and his voice became unbelievably quiet, as if he were laying beside Bucky whispering the words in his ears, “I can't wait to come back to you."

And he couldn't wait. Two days away from Bucky and the distance was already wearing down on him. He hadn't realized how difficult it would be to stop living that domestic life they had. He no longer found joy in this life of a hero, constantly looking over his shoulder and on the run, chasing this bad guy and all that. That thrill that came with a sense of adrenaline and danger was gone. He preferred a much different adrenaline now than the one he'd craved when he'd been de-iced, eager to prove himself in this new century. He preferred the adrenaline of kissing Bucky in the shop, the rush he got when he interacted with a customer and helped them out successfully.  _ When will my fight end,  _ he thought.

Steve chatted quietly with Bucky until he fell asleep in his small cot. Bucky updated him on the shop and the plants and the youth shelter and Sheppy, his beautiful soft and gruff voice lulling Steve gently into sleep.

When Steve woke up early the next morning, his phone was dead. He smiled fondly at the thought of the call going even while they'd both fallen asleep. That joy only lasted a few seconds until he realized he had Hydra to deal with today. 

Nat’s plan worked. They raided the Hydra base by surprise. The base was operating under the pretense of being a corn farm. It was small, with only eight agents that barely put up a fight compared to the combined strength of Steve, Nat and Clint. When they had subdued the agents and tied them up, Nat immediately took a seat by the vast computer system they had. 

“Alright fingers crossed this has what we need, boys,” Nat said and started typing away. 

Steve and Clint lounged around while Nat did her work, keeping an eye on the agents to make sure they didn’t try to do anything sneaky. Half an hour later, Nat made a noise of exclamation and both Steve and Clint moved to look over her shoulder at the computer screen. 

“It’s not everything,” Nat said, “but it’s still enough to bring them down and scatter them, there’s emails with names of people in high places, money transfers, places of operations, protocol, lists of agents, we’ve hit the jackpot.”

Clint whooped and Steve sighed a breath of relief. 

“Okay I’m saving all of this to a USB, I’ll release it to the internet tonight.”

“Why not now?” Steve asked.

Nat turned to give him a careful look. “I’m releasing everything Steve for the sake of transparency, some of these files are about Bucky. There’s nothing that may reveal his identity but there’s videos and ‘manuals’ for the handling of the Winter Soldier,” She said, the disgust in her voice evident. 

Steve felt like he was going to vomit. “We don’t have a choice?”

“We have to release everything, you just need to tell Barnes so he’s prepared.”

Steve nodded and started to strap and unstrap the buckle of his glove. For a second he’d felt like they’d won, but now with the information that they’d have to release some videos and other items of Bucky’s time with Hydra, this felt like a loss. Bucky was deep into his recovery, the Winter Soldier an old part of his identity that Bucky had moved past. Steve didn’t know what having those memories resurface would do to him. 

Once Nat had saved everything, they left the base after making sure the Hydra agents wouldn’t be able to escape out of their bonds for the day until someone could be sent to deal with them. Clint flew them to a safehouse in the state and they spent the rest of the day digging through the stolen Hydra files. Steve couldn’t call Bucky until  _ Barnes Blooms _ closed, so he spent the day helping Nat and Clint organize the files and make notes of the intel. 

It was frankly upsetting, how deep the roots of Hydra were in the country. It was even more disheartening to realize that their work wouldn’t be complete after sharing these files with the world; they were still going to have to pay all the bases a visit and get every Hydra official and agent. Dropping the intel wouldn’t destroy them, just scatter them. 

But there was no choice but to move forward and finish this through. And Steve was dedicated to this now, he'd told Bucky he'd make this world safer for him and that was what he would do. So an hour after  _ Blooms  _ was supposed to close, Steve rang Bucky's phone in a bedroom upstairs for privacy. 

Bucky answered almost immediately with a laugh. "Sheppy be careful! Sorry Steve, Sheppy has the zoomies and I'm telling her not to break anything, how's it going, baby?"

Steve smiled at the sound of his voice and laughed, even more at the sound of Sheppy's barks in the background. "I'm doing alright, we ran into a bit of trouble but we figured it out."

"Oh? What happened?" 

Steve sighed. "Hydra's inside SHIELD, Buck."

Bucky hummed, and Steve couldn't help but chuckle. "You don't seem surprised."

"Every organization is vulnerable to being infiltrated by Hydra," Bucky replied. 

"You're not wrong. They've had intel into our every move, the first two bases we hit were completely empty, they'd been expecting us."

"I'm assuming Nat's plant was to go rogue," Bucky said.

Steve made an affirmative sound. "We told SHIELD we'd head to Connecticut but went to Kansas instead. They weren't expecting us."

"Find anything useful?"

Steve swallowed and sat up more firmly against the headboard of the bed he was on. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about." He paused, unsure of how to broach the topic. "The plan is to leak classified Hydra information from their databases so we can expose them and make it easier to bring them down, but some of the files—the information is—" Steve couldn't finish his sentence, didn't have the strength to do it. He didn't even know what specific information and videos would be in the leak, but even imagining what it could be and the torture Bucky went through sent a deep sad ache through him.

"Oh," Bucky said quietly, and his voice sounded small through the phone, vulnerable. 

Steve felt frozen, speechless. He didn't know what to say to make this feel better, and thought maybe what Bucky needed was silence to gather his thoughts. 

"Some Winter Soldier data will be leaked," Bucky said. 

"Yeah," Steve replied, choked up. "Nothing that'll reveal your identity, but other things—like videos," Steve could barely get the word out. The thought of Hydra filming Bucky's torture horrified him to the point of anger. 

Bucky was silent. Steve wished he could be there with him, to offer him touch and comfort if it was what he needed. He didn't want him to go through this alone, miles apart from each other. He felt thankful that Sheppy was there, at least Bucky wasn't completely alone. 

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised, this day had to come at some point," Bucky said quietly, and Steve knew from the sound of his voice that he was trying to be strong, that this was affecting him more than he wanted it to. 

"I'm sorry, I wish there was another option, I just wanted to give you an advanced warning."

Bucky sighed. "Thank you for letting me know, I think I might close the shop for a couple of days while this is trending."

"You do what you need to do to keep yourself safe, sweetheart. This isn't something you should have to deal with or see online, I'm sorry."  _ I wish I could take your pain away, I wish I could've ripped you from their hands before they hurt you, I wish I could ease your hurts and give you comfort. _

"I'll be okay Steve," Bucky assured, "I just—I just don't want you to look, don't read anything or—or watch any of it," Bucky said shakily, voice thick with unshed tears. 

Steve blinked and tears fell down his cheeks. He had to clear his throat a couple of times to get rid of the lump of sadness there that threatened to overtake him. "I won't," he promised. 

Bucky sniffed and the sound sent a direct shot of pain through Steve's chest.  _ I would rather be hurt again and again than listen to the sound of your tears and pain,  _ Steve thought. 

"I love you," Steve said because it was all he could offer. 

"I love you," Bucky replied, sounding less shaky. 

After that, Bucky had to leave to take Sheppy on a walk and Steve made him promise to call or text if he needed to talk or simply needed anything. Steve returned downstairs where Nat and Clint were still sorting through the soon to be leaked Hydra files on their respective laptops. Steve joined them at the dining table, and placed his phone down screen up in case Bucky texted or called him. 

“Everything alright?” Nat raised an eyebrow.

Steve nodded. “He’s not happy about it but he understands, he’ll be okay.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Nat replied. “Information about my history is in the leak too.”

Right, it had slipped his mind that Nat’s background could also be in those files. It was amazing, the bravery she and Bucky had in the face of their horrible histories being exposed for all the world to see. “Thank you, Nat, he’ll appreciate it.”

It was pretty anticlimactic when the time for the leak arrived. Nat simply pressed a button that uploaded all the information they’d stolen from Hydra and organized onto a website, which she then linked into a tweet from the White House twitter account she hacked into. Within hours, the link to the website was trending and #HydraUS, #corruptSHIELD and #WinterSoldier were among the trending hashtags. 

_ Maybe don’t check twitter anytime soon _ , Steve texted Bucky.

Bucky:  _ 😒 pal, I’m over a hundred years old, you really think I have tweeter _

Steve smiled down at his phone like an absolute besotted goof.  _ Don’t look at the news either,  _ he replied.

_ I know doofus, _ Bucky sent back, then a second message that Steve read in Bucky’s softest voice,  _ I’m alright, sweetheart, don’t worry.  _

How could Steve not worry when Bucky was the single most important thing in his life. So long as they were apart, he would worry, until the moment he could hold Bucky in his arms again and be held by him. 

The US and the majority of the world were in disarray for the next few days. The reveal of Hydra in the government’s highest ranks and their involvement in some of the worst torture and assassinations to date sent the media into a frenzy. The news could barely cover all the arrests of officials and high profile individuals. It was frankly a mess, and Steve was glad he didn’t have to deal with or see any of it. So while the world screamed and talked about the leak, Nat, Clint and Steve resumed their mission around the country, destroying each base they found and gathering intel and capturing Hydra operatives for local authorities. 

It was gruelling work, because dealing with Hydra was never simple. The intel they gathered from each base, Nat sent to Fury, whom they still trusted despite his previous high rank in SHIELD. SHIELD had disbanded and it was a mess. While it hurt to see something Peggy had worked hard on to be dismantled, it was even more painful to know that Hydra had been on the inside and Steve understood the need to destroy SHIELD and start over again, as was Fury’s plan. 

Every day was the same, and it started to rankle Steve. Fight Hydra agents, destroy equipment, find and download intel, arrest operatives, listen to stupid agents yell  _ Hail Hydra  _ as if that was worth anything. It began to wear down on him. Steve missed the days of waking up beside Bucky and making breakfast together and going on a run with Sheppy. He missed the smell of flowers and the feel of soil, and the smiles and friendly faces of customers. He missed the taco stand across the street and the way tacos made Bucky an undignified messy eater. 

What he missed the most though, were all his small interactions with Bucky: the kisses they shared and the laughs they exchanged. He missed waking up in the middle of the night to find Bucky in the kitchen eating apple slices and dipping them directly into the peanut butter jar.  _ I want to go back,  _ Steve thought desperately. But he didn’t know how, he was always stuck to this duty he felt he owed the world.  _ I’m doing this for Bucky,  _ he reminded himself. But with every mission he began to doubt that more and more, and he remembered what Bucky had told him before he’d left. _ I don’t want you out there facing them either, but I understand this is something you have to do. I don’t like it but you know I’ll support you and be here waiting when you’re done.  _ Was this even worth doing if Bucky didn’t even want him doing it? 

The thoughts wore down on Steve and he felt stuck, unsure of what to do. On one hand, he felt it was his duty to destroy Hydra for good and finish his mission, on the other hand he was tired and weary to his bones.  _ Haven’t I done enough?  _ He asked himself,  _ when can I rest? _

His decision was made a couple of weeks after the Hydra leak. Bucky sent him a selfie of himself and Sheppy, cuddled up on the bed in the apartment. Sheppy looked as happy as a dog could be, and while Bucky was smiling it was a forced and tired smile. There were bags under his eyes and he didn’t look happy. His hair had gotten longer and it trailed over his shoulders in beautiful waves. Steve itched to touch his beard and feel it on his fingertips. 

_ We miss you,  _ the text said, and before he knew it Steve was already gathering his things from his bunk bed in the quinjet and shoving them into his duffel bag. How could he have left Bucky alone in the past month, especially with the release of some of the Winter Soldier data in the leak. How could he have left Bucky, period? Bucky hadn’t wanted him to go and wasn’t that the most important thing? The work Steve had done was important, but it could easily be finished by Nat and Clint and the other loyal ex-SHIELD agents. Destroying Hydra was important, but it was a task that could now be carried out by someone else. Being with Bucky was more important, being with his  _ family _ . 

“I have to go back to Bucky,” Steve told Nat and Clint in the cockpit of the quinjet. They were in the air on their way to Louisiana and Steve felt each of the 1,400 miles that separated him and Bucky painfully. 

Nat nodded. “Change course for NYC,” she told Clint and Clint did so without even blinking. 

“Thank you,” Steve said, feeling distraught over their immediate support. 

Nat came to him later during the flight and found him sitting in his bunk and staring at the picture Bucky had sent. She sat beside him and said, “you know, Clint and I were made for this life, always on the move and looking for the next mission, we haven’t tired of that yet. But you, Steve, your time has come. You’ve given so much already, it’s time for you to rest.”

Steve could do nothing but blink away the tears that threatened to spill and hug Nat. Nobody had ever said those words to him before, nobody had told him it was okay to stop and rest. It meant so much coming from Nat, a person he valued and respected, the first person who’d offered him friendship in this new century. 

_ I’m going home,  _ Steve thought and he felt such unparalleled joy at seeing Bucky again. 

With the quinjet in its invisibility mode, Nat and Clint dropped Steve right above Bucky’s building. It was the middle of the night, and there was no fear of anyone seeing him. Steve wished them luck on the rest of the mission and jumped down from the cargo bay onto the roof. He tried to land as gently on his feet, but with his excitement he landed with a thump and dropped his duffel bag and shield. With that amount of noise created, he didn’t bother going down to the apartment through the hatch on the roof, because not a minute after he’d landed, the hatch opened and Bucky popped out, a knife held out in his hand. 

Despite his polka dot pyjama set, and hair in twin braids on either side of his neck, he still looked ready to fight, and in the darkness with only the streetlamp for light, Steve thought he was the most stunning thing. 

“Steve?” Bucky said and lowered the knife.

He sounded like he didn’t believe his eyes and Steve had no choice but to run to him and gather him in his arms. He held him tightly and Bucky dropped the knife and wrapped his arms around him. The feel of him in his arms and the smell of his shampoo brought tears to Steve’s eyes. He’d missed him so goddamn much. 

Bucky was crying too, little shakes of his chest and shoulders and Steve swore they would never be separated again. 

“What are you doing back?” Bucky asked hoarsely.

Steve pulled back and held Bucky’s face in his hands, wiping away at erant tears with his thumbs. “I missed you,” Steve whispered, heart beating erratically, “I belong by your side, Bucky, I never want to leave you ever again.”

Bucky sobbed, a barely audible sound, and Steve kissed him and held him tight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> our boys are reunited!!! Just an extremely fluffy last chapter left!   
> [I'm on twitter!](https://twitter.com/bleuett_)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading and commenting! This fic was a joy to write and I'm happy to finally share it! 
> 
> Please enjoy the absolutely lovely art by fadefilter!

What happened after felt like a dream, and Steve woke up the next morning in their bed to find Bucky on his side staring at him. His eyes were red rimmed, thanks to the shared crying session they’d had the night before. Sheppy was still sleeping at the foot of the bed, and Steve felt an immense gratefulness overcome him. He leaned forward and kissed Bucky gently, over and over, as if to make up for all the time they’d been apart. 

“I missed you,” Bucky whispered when they pulled apart, breathless and giddy about it.

“Never again, I promise,” Steve said, and tangled their fingers together, bringing Bucky’s knuckles to his mouth to softly kiss. “It’s you and I together always from here on out.”

“No more fighting?”

“There are more important things, other people can do the fighting now.”

Bucky smiled and it lit up Steve’s entire world after having not seen it for months. Steve had no choice but to kiss him again, and touch his face and his hair, trace the pillow creases on his cheeks and the laughter lines at the corners of his eyes. He was going to wake up to the sight of Bucky’s face and smile every morning here on out, and the thought made his skin break out in goosebumps, heart clenching in elation. 

“Thank you,” Bucky said, and he sounded shy, “for coming back. I know the fight’s important to you, but you’re important to me. I hated being apart.”

Steve swallowed. “You’re important to me too, Buck. I don’t regret going but I regret being away for that long.”

“I’m proud of you,” Bucky murmured, “for doing what you had to and bringing them down.”

Bucky’s gratitude went unsaid and Steve simply hugged him closer. It must’ve felt freeing for Bucky to know that Hydra was too tattered to pieces to ever come after him again. Steve felt a deep sense of satisfaction he didn’t think he'd experienced before.  _ I’m done,  _ he thought hysterically. The notion was strange and wild, something he’d only ever entertained in passing. No more fighting, barring world ending emergencies?

The laughter burst out of him abruptly and Bucky frowned at him and poked him in the stomach. “What’re you laughing about, punk?”

Steve grinned and started peppering Bucky’s face with kisses like an absolute dork. “Nothing, I’m just happy.”

Bucky rolled his eyes but Steve knew he was endeared by the way his cheeks flushed and he let Steve shower him with kisses. 

Steve was still settling in after being gone for months, so he opted out of their usual morning runs, choosing to stay and make breakfast while Bucky took Sheppy for a walk. He took some time to walk around the apartment first, curious to see if anything had changed while he had been gone. But with the exception of, of course, more plants, it was the same as he’d left it and it was nice to have that sense of stability. 

When he went to open the fridge to pull out the ingredients he needed, he noticed a photo held to the door by a small magnet in the shape of a dog paw. It was a picture of Bucky, Sheppy and Steve in the shop that Sam had snapped of them to commemorate adopting Sheppy when they’d first gotten her. 

It was one of those classic cheesy photos, Sheppy sitting on her hinds paws with Steve and Bucky kneeling on either side. Steve smiled dopily at it and traced it with his fingers. He wanted to fill the fridge door with dozens more pictures like this and he was free to do so now. No more obligations to the world, just to himself and Bucky, and wasn’t that absolutely delightful. He didn’t know what he would do with this newfound freedom and extra time that would no longer be taken up with missions, but for now he would be happy to spend every waking second with Bucky and Sheppy and  _ Barnes Blooms.  _

His first day being back at the shop felt like the most natural thing. Steve saw Bucky smile fondly when Steve made a beeline for his jade plant, checking to see how the old plant was doing. Sheppy took her usual spot on the dog bed by the cash counter and their day began as any other normal day was at the shop. 

It was a huge change of pace from the last couple of months.  _ Barnes Blooms  _ was a very calm environment that didn’t see much action whereas the last two months chasing after Hydra had been filled with constant stress and fighting, always looking over his shoulder. Here, the only thing he saw over his shoulder were plants or Sheppy lounging around or Bucky working on bouquets in the back. Steve had been afraid that maybe he wouldn’t be able to handle the change, that there would be a constant thrum and need under his skin for movement and fighting. It was all he had known in his life, after all. But he eased back into life at the shop seamlessly and it made him happy to know that he was more than just a fighter. 

Hydra still trended online and popped up on the news every once in a while, but neither Steve or Bucky generally spent much time online and they didn’t have a TV, so they were never exposed to it. Steve knew it must be triggering content for Bucky but he never asked about it, clueless as to how to broach the topic in a sensitive way. He found that sometimes his words failed him when he needed them most. 

In his first week back Sam showed up at the shop while Bucky was in the back, sporting a wide grin. “A little bird told me you’re back.”

“Hey Sam,” Steve smiled and did that bro hug/back clap. “Glad to be back, how have things been?”

“All good over here. I heard you took down a terrorist organization?” Sam teased.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and shrugged. “It wasn’t just me.”

“Either way I’m glad you’re back now, Bucky was grumpy while you were away,” Sam whispered conspiratorially.

“I was too,” Steve admitted and then hesitantly asked, “was he okay while I was gone?”

Sam shrugged. “As okay as he could be with all the Hydra stuff, but he talked with his therapist and I was here most days, so he’s alright for the most part.”

“Thank you for being there for him when I couldn’t.”

“It’s what friends are for,” Sam replied easily with a smile.

Steve was happy that Bucky had a friend like Sam, that he hadn’t had to navigate reintegration into society on his own. Sam was funny and kind and easy going and Steve hoped that one day they would be good friends too. 

Bucky’s trauma at having the Winter Soldier files leaked manifested itself in random bouts of silence and more frequent therapy sessions. Since neither of them really had social media or watched the news, Bucky easily avoided being triggered by any of the information in the files. But one morning during Steve’s first week back, they opted to have breakfast at a diner nearby instead of eating at home. Sheppy was with them of course, because neither of them felt comfortable leaving her alone, so the place they’d picked allowed pets and even had cute dog snacks. 

They ordered almost one of everything on the menu: eggs (scrambled for Steve, sunnyside up for Bucky), pancakes (blueberry for Steve, chocolate chip for Bucky), toast (white for Steve, gluten free for Bucky), and an assortment of chopped fruit for both of them to share. Steve opted for water but Bucky was a classic black tea with no sugar person. Sheppy sat at their feet under their booth, chewing her dog biscuit. 

“We should get waffles next time,” Bucky commented as he meticulously cut his pancakes into bite sized pieces.

Steve, the heathen he was, simply speared the entire pancake on his fork and took bites from that, no knife necessary. “Pancakes are better, you know that Bucky.”

Bucky swallowed and pointed his fork accusingly at Steve. “Don’t pretend you wouldn’t eat a waffle if there was one in front of you right now.”

Steve grinned through cheeks stuffed full with food. He was sure he looked like a chipmunk and did it because he knew it would make Bucky look at him with a mix of fondness and exasperation. Steve swallowed before talking because he did have  _ some  _ basic manners. “You know I’ll eat anything put in front of me, you can’t use that against me. But pancakes are superior because they’re fluffy and you can put things in them and—” Steve paused at the same time as Bucky froze in place. 

The radio in the diner was on and Steve could hear the radio host speaking. “Alright folks, now everyone and their grandmother has heard about the leaked Hydra files, what we’re asking now is should the government find the Winter Soldier, if they haven’t already, and should he be prosecuted to the extent of the law for the crimes he commited? Call in to our phone line and tell us your opinion.”

Bucky stood up before the announcer had even finished talking, face blank and hands trembling. He grabbed Sheppy’s leash and speedwalked out of the store before Steve even had a chance to do anything. Ignoring the leftover food, Steve dropped some bills from his wallet on the table and ran after Bucky.

He didn’t have to go far because Bucky was right outside the diner, leaning against the wall with Sheppy whining at his feet and licking his hand. Bucky had his eyes shut and Steve could tell he was doing a breathing exercise by the way his chest rose and fell. Giving him the chance to ground himself, Steve leaned against the wall beside him silently and comforted Sheppy with pets. When Bucky opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Steve, Steve’s heart broke a little inside his chest. 

“I’ll never be free of it,” Bucky whispered. Amids the sounds of car engines and the noise of patrons inside the diner, his voice sounded the most broken Steve had ever heard it. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve could only say, because in that moment despite all the good and lives that the Hydra leak had done and saved, he would take it all back to stop Bucky from feeling this pain. “If I could take it away from you I would.”

That made Bucky’s eyes tear up, much to Steve’s horror, and Bucky let out a shaky breath before giving Steve a small smile. “We’ve both had more than our fair share of pain. Can we go home?”

“Of course,” Steve replied, trying to instill as much love and care into his voice as he could. 

He made sure to hold Bucky’s hand and give it a gentle squeeze as they walked back to their apartment. Bucky made a beeline for their bedroom when they arrived, and after refilling Sheppy’s water dish, Steve followed suit. Bucky was in the process of changing into a fuzzy sweatshirt that was too large for him and fleece pyjama bottoms—his comfort clothes. The shop was closed today and Steve knew it would be a self care day for the both of them, so he joined Bucky in bed. 

They settled in bed on their sides facing each other, legs curled up and knees touching. The lights were off, shading the room in muted colours but Bucky’s grey eyes were as vibrant as ever. Steve reached his hand to massage the back of Bucky’s head and his neck, hoping to ward away the migraine that might come because of how stiffly Bucky was holding his body. 

Bucky shut his eyes with a soft exhale and pushed his neck back into Steve’s hand. Steve spent the next while gently massaging Bucky’s neck and running his hand through Bucky’s hair until Bucky’s body visibly relaxed and his breaths evened out in the peaceful rhythm of sleep. 

When rain started to quietly patter on the window, the sound lulled Steve into a doze. He woke up when he felt Bucky shift and a hand cup his face and stroke one of his eyebrows. Steve enjoyed the sensation for a moment before opening his eyes and looking at Bucky with a fondness that could never be contained.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Steve whispered. 

“Just be here,” Bucky replied. “Time and therapy will take care of the rest.”

“Always,” Steve promised and placed his hand on top of Bucky’s on his face, stroking the soft skin with his thumb. “I’ll always be here.”

* * *

It took time for the Hydra fiasco to settle in the media, and subsequently for Bucky to get better at dealing with the sudden reality that the Winter Soldier could be brought up by anyone at any time. But his therapy, the shop and Sheppy did him good. The weather changing and cooling helped. With the fall season came new products and new flower arrangements for Bucky to make. Steve enjoyed helping him decorate the shop in fall decor, orange and red maple leafs and pumpkins of all sizes everywhere. 

Fall flower arrangements were some of Bucky’s favourite to make, Steve came to learn. Bucky loved the oranges and reds and yellows of bouquets. Steve even learned to make dries bouquets and with each one the shop sold, a little flare of pride lit up inside him. There was a beauty, he realized, in bringing joy to someone’s life with something your hands made. It was a vastly different life now working full time at the shop. It was a life filled with less fists and blood and bruises, and more filled with flowers and happy customers and kisses from Bucky. 

Steve enjoyed it. He loved waking up to Bucky’s face every morning and spending the day at the shop. He loved that Bucky called  _ Barnes Blooms  _ ‘our shop’ even though Steve’s name was nowhere on any ownership documents. It was a different life than he had imagined for himself, mostly because when he was young he had never thought he’d make it past 25 and before he met Bucky he thought he would meet his end doing something stupid on a mission. 

But those destructive tendencies were no longer there. His therapist was working on his anxieties about the new centuries and PTSD with him, and with every difficult session Steve felt himself get a little lighter, accepting this new future where he would no longer have to wait and could live happily with Bucky to the end of their days. 

He got back into art and once it came back to him he couldn’t stop. Their evenings were usually spent with Bucky reading a book and Steve with his legs in Bucky’s lap, sketching something. When he’d filled his first sketchbook up, Steve and Bucky had sat on the floor and looked through it as if it was a photo album. And it was, sketches of random moments of their lives, no less valuable by their ordinary simplicity. 

Bucky snoozing with his head tilted back against the arm of the couch. Sheppy drinking from her water bowl. The first fall bouquet Bucky made. Bucky at the pumpkin patch they’d visited, pulling a pull wagon with Sheppy happily sitting in it. A sketch of Bucky with smoothie all over him from the time he forgot to put the lid on the blender. A family portrait of the three of them at an apple orchard; Bucky smiled fondly at that one when he saw it and traced his fingers over the pencil lines. 

A lot of the sketches were Bucky at random parts of the day which was a given, given how the absolute love Steve harboured for him. Never did he look at Bucky and not think  _ I want to put him down on paper.  _ It was natural then, that Bucky was his muse and inspiration to pick up painting again. It was always something he had enjoyed pre-serum, something about the texture of paint on canvas, the smell of the paint. Post-serum and finally able to see colour, he’d never had the opportunity to work with paint and colours in the war now that colours were vivid and real.

Bucky came with him when Steve went to the art store for painting supplies. Together they navigated the endless maze of aisles and products. Bucky was there simply for support since he didn’t have the slightest knowledge of painting. Bucky was the one who encouraged him to get an easel and multiple canvases despite Steve’s fears that he would buy these things and never actually use them. They ended up checking out with a mix of items and a total that was absurdly pricey. Art was expensive and Steve vowed to figure out a way to set up some sort of fund for artists and individuals who couldn’t afford art supplies. 

“You have a thinking face on,” Bucky commented once they’d shoved all the art stuff in the mini and were driving back home. 

“I was just thinking that art materials are expensive,” Steve shrugged, “and there’s probably a lot of people who can’t afford them.”

Bucky nodded and made a noncommittal hum. The thought stayed with Steve, and though he had no idea how he would even start some sort of artists’ fund, he figured he could always ask Pepper since she had experience with that sort of thing. 

They set up Steve’s art supplies in the corner of their bedroom by the large window, where there would be the best light. It made Steve feel fuzzy and warm the way Bucky was so excited on Steve’s behalf about painting. He helped him set up the easel and test out the new paints and brushes, made sure the window was cracked open so the fumes wouldn’t affect Steve’s breathing as if he was still a hundred pound runt. 

He even went down to the shop and brought up a plant to put by Steve’s easel, even though there were probably twenty plants in the bedroom already. “Just in case I’m not here and you need company,” Bucky explained. “Every workspace needs a plant.”

Steve had no choice but to kiss him for being too cute to handle. Bucky laughed and said, “I’m going to make lunch, you look you’re itching to paint, I’ll leave you to it.”

Steve smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you too, you goof.” Bucky rolled his eyes and left the bedroom. 

The ability and knowledge to use oil paints came back to him the moment he put his brush to the canvas. At first it was a lot of playing with colours and making palettes before an image of Bucky came to his head and he began working for real. It was like he was suddenly possessed. He only left the bedroom for lunch and dinner and a walk with Bucky and Sheppy. He didn’t let Bucky into the bedroom all day because he wanted the painting to be a surprise. 

It was a slow process with having to wait for layers to dry and the fact that Steve hadn’t done this in years and he still had to work at the shop. It took about a week with Steve turning the easel to point at the wall whenever they slept or Bucky was in the room to prevent him from peeking. By the time he was finished that little corner of the room was a mess, paint splatter on the floor and some paint had even made it to the window, which made Bucky’s eyes narrow. Steve himself had lost half his wardrobe to paint stains. Bucky made him clean everything and promise to put a sheet on the floor for his next project so he didn’t mess up the hardwood. 

“Okay, are you ready to see?” Steve asked Bucky, a mixture of nervousness and excitement in his voice. 

Bucky was sitting on the couch in the living room, Sheppy cuddling up beside him. “Yes, sweetheart, I want to see it. I’ve been waiting for a week,” he said with that gentle smile and kind face that always made Steve feel at ease. 

“Okay, don’t go anywhere,” Steve said and headed to the bedroom to grab the painting.

“Where would we go?” he heard Bucky ask behind him and then more quietly, “your daddy’s being an idiot, Sheppy.”

That made Steve grin like an absolute fool, a fool in love. He hurried to their bedroom and picked up the canvas from the corner, carrying it carefully as he made his way back to the living room. Just to make Bucky laugh, he walked backwards so that Bucky wouldn’t see the painting until Steve turned out.

“Steve!” Bucky laughed. “Just let me see the damn thing.”

Steve chuckled. “Okay, okay, here we go,” he said, and turned around to display the canvas. 

Bucky’s laughter immediately stopped and all he said was a quiet little, “oh.”

Steve forced his hands to stay still and not shake as he held the canvas up. The nerves he felt in his stomach increased but he reminded himself that Bucky’s silence didn’t mean anything bad, Bucky just always considered his words carefully before he spoke. And Steve knew this painting would be an emotional one for him. He also knew that he could’ve painted a stick figure and Bucky would still support him and tell him he loved it. They were confident enough now in their relationship to not let those small anxieties get to them. 

To Steve’s shock, Bucky’s eyes began to well up, wet with tears that didn’t overflow. At such a sight that made his heart clench, Steve wasted no time putting the painting down on the coffee table and joining Bucky on the couch. He took Bucky’s face in his hands and wiped away at the tears that fell down his cheeks. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked softly. 

Bucky blinked away tears and took a deep breath, exhaling shakily. But when he smiled at Steve, Steve knew everything was alright.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” Bucky said, and petted Sheppy’s head where it had poked into their laps.

“I ask myself that question every day,” Steve replied. “But if we’re both asking that question, it only means we deserve each other. There’s one thing I don’t and will never doubt in my life, Bucky, and that’s you.”

Bucky shook his head. “How do you always say the right things to make me feel better?”

“I could ask you the same,” Steve replied and gathered Bucky into his arms so that Bucky was laying back against his chest with Sheppy in his lap. 

Steve kissed the top of Bucky’s head and wrapped one hand around him while the other stroked over Sheppy’s fur. “Do you like it?” he asked Bucky. 

“It’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever been given,” Bucky said. “I don’t know how to express how much it means to me. You’re so talented Steve, thank you for sharing your work with me.”

Steve was glad Bucky couldn't see his face because he was sure he was bright red, still so awkward about receiving compliments about his art. “I just wanted to draw you at your most beautiful and peaceful,” Steve managed to say and looked at the painting on the coffee table.

It was a 24 by 24 canvas of Bucky and Sheppy at the shop, surrounded by plants. Sheppy was lying at Bucky’s feet and Bucky had an arm extended, watering one of the hanging plants. What was special about it was the way all the plants in the painting seemed to be gravitating towards Bucky, leaves reaching out for him. Steve thought it was fitting with the way Bucky was truly the heart of  _ Barnes Blooms,  _ the nurturer and caretaker of every plant in the shop. Everyone and everything in the shop, from customers to the plants to Steve himself were always enraptured by Bucky’s presence and kindness. 

“I love you, so, so much,” Bucky said fervently, and the emotion and truth in his voice was clear because Steve felt it too, the way this love threatened to swallow them whole. 

Steve would let it. To be enveloped in Bucky’s warmth and devotion was to see the heavens themselves. 

Steve turned Bucky’s head and kissed him gently on the lips before pulling back and staring into his stunning eyes. “I love you too, pal.”

Bucky smiled, like he always did when they exchanged I love yous. “Should we put it up?” He asked. “Or is it weird to put up a painting of yourself.”

“I don’t think it’s weird, but I made it for you so you can do whatever you want with it,” Steve said. “I thought it would look nice somewhere on the bookshelf.”

“Hmm, we’ll have to make some space for it, we have too many books.”

“No such thing,” Steve chuckled and nuzzled Bucky’s temple, adorning him with small kisses. “We can get a new shelf or one of those ladder things you have at the store and put it in the corner where we eat.”

Bucky squinted suspiciously at Steve since he usually had the worst interior decor sense and then cracked a smile. “Alright, that’s a good idea.”

Steve pretended to huff in indignation. “Don’t sound so surprised, I’m a great interior designer.”

“Sure Steve, don’t think I’ve forgotten a week ago when we were searching for mirrors online and you said a ten dollar boring white mirror would be fine.”

Steve cringed. “We just use them to look at our reflections? I don’t understand why we need a fancy one.”

“It’s about the  _ aesthetic,  _ Steve.”

“Sure, honey,” Steve grinned just to annoy Bucky as if he wasn’t the one that had cashed over the money for the expensive oval mirror with gold trimmings. As if Bucky could ask for something or want something and Steve wouldn’t immediately get it for him.

“We need to buy a shelf soon, then, I want to put it up,” Bucky said and then looked down at Sheppy napping in his lap. “Could you grab my laptop from our room?”

“Sure, sweetheart,” Steve said and went to do just that.

And that was how they spent their evening, scrolling through various stores’ websites in an attempt to find the best ladder or shelf addition to the apartment. That search of course led them to a bookstore website because a new shelf meant more books. It was as lovely an evening as any they spent together, made sweeter by the endless possibilities of more nights like this. Steve thought back to how his evenings had been spent alone before meeting Bucky. He was glad they had each other now, none of that sadness of being in an apartment alone. It was strange to think of both of them alone in their respective apartments, separated only by simple distance and time, so close. 

He tried not to dwell on it, but Steve thought a lot about how different things would be if they had met at any time point after their births, as kids, during the war, at Azzano. So many points in time where things could've changed. Would the same tragedies have occurred in these different timelines? Would they both have survived? It was that thought that always made Steve pause his pondering. However different things could have been if they had met at different time points, Steve was happy they had met when they had, that they lived this life now, both alive and well.  _ Together.  _

* * *

“So,” Bucky said one day when they were closing up the shop, “I remember you talking about the art fund when we went to the art store, and I think that’s a great idea. But an opportunity’s come up that I think would suit you.”

Steve paused counting the money in the cash and looked up to glance at Bucky sweeping the floor. “What opportunity?”

Bucky leaned on the broom. “So the youth shelter usually has a volunteer run some sort of crafts session for the kids a couple of times a week, but Naomi’s had to move because she got a job across the country so we have an open session now that isn’t filled with an activity,” Bucky said and looked at Steve carefully. “I was thinking you could come in and volunteer to teach the kids art and take Naomi’s spot.”

A surprised “oh” blurted out of Steve’s mouth. Usually he could predict Bucky’s areas of conversation 80% of the time and this was unexpected. “I—I’m not sure,” he finally said. 

“What’s holding you back?”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know if I’m qualified to teach art.”

Bucky sidled up the counter and leaned on it, crossing his arms. He looked at Steve kindly. “Steve, these kids just need someone who’ll pay attention to them and give them something to do, most of them have rarely had the opportunity to explore things like art. It’s not like you’ll be teaching them to oil paint, they just want to have fun and try new things.”

Steve sighed. “What if I’m bad at it?”

“Just try it out,” Bucky encouraged . “It’ll be good for you and the kids, they’d be ecstatic to have you teaching them. You’ll have to go through a volunteer orientation and training session and complete a certificate for working with vulnerable individuals so it’s not like you’ll be going into this blindly.”

“Can I think about it?”

“Of course, baby, take your time there’s no pressure,” Bucky said and leaned over the counter to give him a kiss on the cheek before he returned to sweeping. 

Steve thought about it for the rest of the day. He had never been good with babies, but these weren’t babies, they were kids in their teenage years, underprivileged and needing the resources to help them get on their feet and live good lives. He knew how important the youth shelter was to Bucky, so much of the  _ Barnes Blooms  _ income went as donations to the shelter, not to mention that amount of time Bucky volunteered there each week. 

Steve himself understood how important the cause was. He himself had endured days of homelessness and hopelessness and lack of food when he was younger after his mother had passed away. This opportunity was the perfect intersection of helping people who needed it in an active way and making art more accessible. Donating money was always helpful, but as Bucky liked to preach, donating time could sometimes be even more valuable. 

With that train of thought, Steve’s decision was made for him. Besides, despite working at the shop full time, Steve was still sometimes hit with bouts of restfulness where he didn’t feel like he was doing anything purposeful that would contribute to the world. That wasn’t a jab at working at  _ Barnes Blooms,  _ of course, because the shop made its own contributions to the world. Steve just sometimes felt like he should be doing  _ more,  _ a thought born of remnants of guilt of retiring from Captain America. 

“I’ll do it,” Steve told Bucky that night when they were reading in bed. “How do I start?”

Bucky grinned at him with the largest proudest and fondest smile and Steve felt something settle in his chest.  _ I can do this,  _ he thought. 

Bucky took him to the shelter the next evening to get everything set up. Steve met the various employees, sat in on the orientation/training sessions with a couple other new volunteers. In the next few days he completed an online module for working with vulnerable individuals and minors and received a certificate for that. The position technically required a police check but considering his identity and the hassle it would be, that part was easily dismissed from the volunteer requirements. By the time the weekend hit, Steve was officially a volunteer at the Brooklyn Village youth shelter and resource space. 

His art sessions were twice a week, Tuesdays at 7 pm and Saturdays 12:30 pm, so that weekend before his Tuesday session Steve spent all his time furiously researching various topics. Some of his google searches were:

_ How to teach art _

_ Methods of teaching art _

_ What is pedagogy _

_ Art pedagogy _

_ Fun art projects for teenagers _

_ How to build rapport with students _

_ Art memes _

_ Diversity in art  _

_ Buzzfeed art quiz _

[ _ https://www.buzzfeed.com/farrahpenn/how-much-random-art-history-knowledge-do-you-have _ ](https://www.buzzfeed.com/farrahpenn/how-much-random-art-history-knowledge-do-you-have)

_ What is tiktock  _

Bucky watched him make notes and lesson plans fondly, laughing whenever he looked over Steve’s shoulders to see an absurd google search. By the time Tuesday evening had rolled around, Steve was prepared with an armada of art supplies and notes. 

“Remember they just want to relax and have fun,” Bucky said when he dropped Steve off in the mini. “Just be your usual friendly self, they’ll love you.”

“Okay,” Steve said nervously and stuck his head through the driver’s window to kiss Bucky. “Love you.”

“Love you too, now shoo.”

There were ten kids at the session, varying in teenage years. Some of them looked at him wearily but when he was introduced as Bucky’s partner, most of them relaxed significantly. Some of them recognized him as Captain America but really they were interested in the fact that he was Bucky’s partner. That made Steve inexplicably happy. 

“Mr. Barnes is the best,” one of the older kids said. “When I was having a rough time, he paid me to work with him at the shop for a wedding. You better be treating him well.”

That was chroused by agreements by the rest of the kids. 

Steve thought it was simultaneously funny and cute that a bunch of pre-adults were threatening him if he didn’t treat Bucky well and he smiled and said, “I agree, Bucky’s the best, and I try to treat him like he deserves every single day.”

That seemed to satisfy them and the rest of the session was spent working on various art projects according to each person’s interest. Steve had made sure to bring a diverse array of art materials since not every felt comfortable or was interested in the traditional pencil and paint drawing. For today, he let them play around, letting each student discover their interest and likes and dislikes when it came to art. 

He spent a lot of time getting to know the students, trying to make them laugh and have a good lighthearted time. By the end of the session they declared him an old man in a 27 year old’s body, which wasn’t wrong, but deemed him an acceptable teacher. A couple even said they were excited for the next session, which made Steve proud.

“Good job, Mr. Rogers,” Bucky teased him when he came to pick him up. “You’re a good teacher, I told you.”

Steve could only grin from the passenger seat, riding the high of doing something productive that contributed to society in a meaningful way. 

From there they fell into a new normal, working at the shop during the weekdays and volunteering in the evenings, not always together. Saturday afternoons Bucky ran the shop alone while Steve volunteered, and Sundays were always spent together. It meant that they didn’t spend every waking moment together which while strange, Steve knew it was necessary for a healthy relationship. 

The weather became colder day by day and Steve had the pleasure of seeing Bucky in cute knit sweaters and hoodies. Steve thought he was especially cute bundled up in a puffy jacket with mittens and a toque with a pom pom at the top. It wasn’t exactly cold enough for winter clothes by normal human standards, but Steve and Bucky both got cold easily and had bad memories associated with the chill, so they always bundled up when they went outside. 

For the first time this century, Steve watched the changing of the seasons with a newfound appreciation for the beauty of it. The way the leaves changed colours and halloween and thanksgiving decorations started popping up everywhere. It was especially beautiful to see it with Bucky by his side, in love with the way Bucky’s beauty changed with the changing of the leaves. Steve would never stop staring at him, and he prayed that the years would keep coming until Bucky’s beauty changed with age, until the wrinkles on their eyes deepened and their hair greyed and whitened.

He could not imagine anything better than a lifetime with Bucky. 

That specific thought triggered a cascade that Steve could not stop. Which was partially how Steve ended up going to a fall crafts fair with Nat, who had temporarily returned on break from her mission with Clint. He had tried not to sound up to something when he’d told Bucky he and Nat would be hanging out for the evening, and it probably worked because Bucky didn’t seem to suspect a thing, just told him to have fun.

Nat met him at the front of the shop, decked out in full fall clothes. She wore an orange turtleneck with a puffy black vest overtop and leggings and boots. Steve thought it was very in the fall spirit and told her so as they climbed onto his motorcycle.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and he could hear her eyes roll when she said, “You’re so boring Steve, a leather jacket and a beige sweater? Where’s your spooky spirit?”

“Bucky has enough for the both of us,” Steve replied and started the bike. 

The Fair October event as it was called was held at a fairgrounds a twenty minute drive away. When Steve and Nat arrived the sky was darkening and the fair was lit with overhead lights, bustling with people. The first thing Nat made them do was get hot drinks, a pumpkin spiced latte for Nat and a hot chocolate for Steve. They didn’t bother with the rides, though Steve thought it would be cute to bring Bucky another day and ride the ferris wheel. 

Instead they scoured through the market where vendors and artisans and designers sold handmade items. Nat bought some candles and a chunky scarf. Steve bought some fudge for them to share and expensive honey he thought Bucky would appreciate. Where they spent the most time though, was in the handcrafted jewellery section. 

“You do know his size, right?” Nat asked.

“ _ Yes,  _ Nat,” Steve groaned. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Hmm, I don’t know about that,” Nat said dubiously.

He did in fact have bucky’s ring measurements, obtained through a top secret risky mission. A few days ago, he had waited until Bucky was deeply asleep before hurriedly tying a string around and his finger and cutting the string to the exact measurement. All the while Sheppy had watched him suspiciously from the foot of the bed which had made Steve want to burst into laughter more than once and compromise his mission. It had been successful though and the next day when Bucky was busy Steve had meticulously measured the thin piece of string with a ruler so he had Bucky’s exact ring size. Never let it be forgotten that Steve was an expert tactician. He had even used a website online to convert the centimetres into an actual ring size number.

Now, walking through the aisles with all these vendors, Steve was starting to feel some doubt, especially since none of the rings he had looked at so far were  _ the one.  _

“You know you could just get one at like a real jewellery store, right?” Nat commented.

“I know,” Steve said, huffing irritably. “But Bucky would want something that’s been handmade and supports a small artist, not some giant ass capitalist jewellery store that gets its diamonds from child labour.”

Nat laughed. “Okay, okay fuck capitalism, I get it.”

Steve sighed. In all truthfulness, he wasn’t even sure what type of ring to get Bucky. Bucky never wore jewellery or anything of the like, so Steve didn’t have much to go on.  _ I’ll know the right ring when I see it,  _ he kept repeating to himself. 

“I bet you’re thinking something goofy like you’ll find the right one when you see it because you did zero research like always and trust your gut too much,” Nat said.

“ _ Nat, _ ” Steve whined. “That was too on the nose, you can’t attack me like that.”

Nat shrugged. “Sorry not sorry. Now look carefully, there’s only a few vendors left to see and your magical happily ever after ring better be here.”

Steve frowned and he knew his face had taken on that mullish look. He wasn’t going to leave without finding the perfect ring. The next vendor they stopped at was run by a small young woman behind glass display cases of ornate silver jewellery. 

“Hi there,” she smiled brightly, her short black bob bouncing. “What’re you looking for today?”

“He wants to propose to his boyfriend.” Nat pointed at Steve with her thumb. 

“Aw lovely, I’ve got an assortment of all types here, I make these myself of course and they’re sustainably made.”

“His boyfriend’s all about sustainability,” Nat said and Steve tuned out when she started flirting with the jewellery maker.

He examined the rows of rings carefully and when his eyes laid on a silver ring made of intertwined leaves.

“Is this one made of silver?” Steve asked, pointing at the ring.

“Platinum, actually!” the woman said. “Very durable, that one’s an excellent choice and very special, I’ve only made the one.”

“He’s going to love it,” Nat said.

“I’ll take it please,” Steve said and he could feel his mouth dry at the excitement and nerves of giving Bucky this ring, of  _ proposing.  _

“Of course, how would you like to pay?”

As the woman packed his ring in a fancy little ring box and Steve paid with shaking hands, Steve’s brain only had one thought.

_ I’m going to marry Bucky.  _

He  _ was  _ going to marry Bucky, he just couldn’t figure out when to propose. The ring was hidden at the bottom of his art materials box that Bucky never touched and it stayed there for weeks. Steve could never find the right opportunity and anytime he thought about pulling out the ring and giving it to Bucky his mouth went dry and his stomach clenched in anxiety. Stupid thoughts always held him back like  _ what if Bucky isn’t a marriage person  _ and the stupidest thought  _ what if he says no.  _

Bucky wouldn’t say no, Steve knew that logically. Bucky showed his love and devotion everyday, he wouldn’t say no to marriage when it was so obvious that they were going to spend the rest of their lives together. Steve was annoyed with himself, he was always so confident yet the thought of proposing made his palms sweat. 

_ Idiot, idiot, idiot,  _ Steve berated himself when another day had gone by and the ring was still in his art box and not on Bucky’s finger. Maybe it was too early to propose, they hadn’t even been in a relationship for a full year yet. But what was a year compared to everything they’d been through so far. A year was just a made up number, it couldn’t define their love. 

“Is Bucky the type of person who likes the idea of marriage?” Steve asked Sam one day when they were the only ones in the shop. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Bucky’s 100% a romantic, marriage sounds right up his alley.”

“Right,” Steve said and was thankful that Sam didn’t ask him the obvious question that he was probably thinking. 

And so the ring stayed hidden. The last week of October arrived and suddenly it was Halloween. Bucky dressed up as Aragorn from Lord of the Rings because he was a nerd, and so Steve had no choice but to dress up as a hobbit since he too was a nerd and Bucky had told him that he had hobbit feet. Sheppy, of course, was dressed as Gandalf with a robe and pointy hat on her head. 

They handed out candy to trick or treaters from the storefront. Bucky was a big fan with the little ones that stopped by with their parents, giving them the candy of their choice and even doing little magic tricks that made them laugh and scream. Steve watched him fondly, because was there anything that Bucky wasn’t good at?

Steve enjoyed it, never really having participated in Halloween before. He loved all the candy they got to eat and their family’s matching costumes, the way they cuddled up on the couch later and watched horror movies. 

_ This is domesticity,  _ Steve thought, spending your days with loved one and going through the ordinary challenges of everyday life. 

A week after Halloween, they were closing up shop one evening. Bucky was bringing in the plants outside the storefront back inside and Steve was counting the cash and logging it into the computer like how Sam had taught him. It was as normally as any evening in the shop until Bucky walked up with one of his hands behind his back and leaned on the counter, smiling brilliantly at Steve.

“What’s up, Buck?” Steve asked and reached over to tuck a loose piece of hair that had escaped Bucky’s braid behind his hair. 

“I found some candy hidden behind the shelves from when you dropped the bag because you’re clumsy,” Bucky said. 

“Okay…” Steve replied, the confusion clear in his voice. 

Bucky pulled out his hidden hand and presented Steve with one of those candy lollipop rings, sans wrapping. “Will you marry me, Steve?”

Steve swore he could feel his heart stop in his chest. Because while Bucky was holding a candy ring, his face and voice were serious. He didn’t sound like he was joking, and Steve could feel his stupid eyes tear up without his permission. 

Bucky’s face fell and he started to pull his hand back. “Aw, sweetheart, I’m sorry, why are you cr—”

“Yes, Bucky, of course yes,” Steve choked out and grabbed Bucky’s hand before he could pull it away. 

Bucky laughed in what could only be described as absolute joy, eyes crinkling. He slipped the candy ring on Steve’s finger and leaned over to kiss him.

“You beat me to it,” Steve said. “Hold on, don’t move.”

He ran off to the backstairs before Bucky could reply, taking the steps three by three until he reached the apartment. There, he grabbed the hidden ring box and ran back downstairs. 

“Will you marry me?” Steve asked breathlessly and opened the box to reveal Bucky’s ring inside. 

Bucky’s cheeks immediately flushed as he looked down at the ring. 

“Steve, this is beautiful.”

“It’s sustainably made and supports a small business,” Steve explained and slid the leaf ring onto Bucky’s finger. “We’re married now, no take backsies.”

“Take backsies?” Bucky laughed. “What are we, four? Besides, we’d have to go to court to actually be married by law.”

“Who cares about the law?” Steve huffed and pointed at his candy ring. “This ring right here says we’re married.”

“You’re an absolute goof, I do actually have a real ring for you, you know that?” Bucky said with a soft smile and pulled out a little black box from the front pocket of his apron. 

He opened it to show Steve the simple gold band inside. “You’re not a flashy person, so I figured you’d appreciate something simple, but I had our birthdates and the day we met engraved on the inside, as a symbol that time will never separate us.”

Steve was powerless to that and the tears fell unbidden from his eyes, unstoppable once they started. He tried to wipe them away but found that Bucky’s hands beat him, gently wiping his cheeks, which only made him cry harder.

“Oh sweetheart,” Bucky whispered. “Why’re you crying?”

“I’m just so happy,” Steve managed to say. “I love you.”

Bucky gathered him in his arms and kissed the top of his head as Steve bent his head to cry into his neck and tried to get himself under control. But Bucky was crying too by the telltale shake of his chest and so Steve let himself cry. 

They only broke apart when Sheppy woke up from her nap and wiggled her way between their legs, demanding attention. They both laughed and immediately gave her pets like she deserved.

“Look Sheppy,” Bucky said, showing Sheppy his ring. “We’re getting married.”

Sheppy barked and licked Bucky’s hand before losing interest and going to sniff at some plants.

“She’s probably annoyed that it took so long,” Steve joked. “I’ve had the ring for weeks.”

Bucky smiled and cupped Steve’s face. “I know, doofus, did you think you really think you could sneakily measure my ring size?”

Steve couldn't even find it in himself to be upset at having been caught. “I’m sorry I didn’t propose though it’s been weeks, I just felt anxious.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, we’re here now aren’t we?” Bucky smiled, and his eyes shone with a happiness that could not be contained. 

Steve grinned and grabbed Bucky by the hips to lift him on the counter. “Hello, husband.”

“Husband,” Bucky acknowledged. “Why don’t we go celebrate this marriage in bed?”

“I like the way you think,” Steve said and offered Bucky his hand.

Bucky took it and hopped off the counter. They took Sheppy with them upstairs and made sure her water bowl was filled and that she was comfortable before locking themselves in the bedroom. 

They kissed standing up at the foot of the bed, gentle and with smiles on their lips they couldn’t help. Happiness burst through Steve’s chest with every moment he stared into Bucky’s eyes. He was lovely, hair curling around his ears and shoulders, beard short and soft, lips red and ready to be kissed. 

Steve stood back as Bucky undressed and his eyes followed the movements of Bucky’s hands like he was the sole centre of the universe. The gracefulness with which he removed his clothes was beautiful, as if every act was something special. There wasn’t anything Bucky did that wasn’t done with beauty. Whether it was through the bias in Steve’s eyes or some magical beauty Bucky exhibited in every movement, Bucky was single handedly the most wondrous person. 

“Undress, Steve,” Bucky said as he pulled off his own light green hoodie.

Whimless to anything Bucky requested, Steve did so, but he was a fool and a klutz when faced with Bucky’s naked skin. He fumbled with the buttons of his shirt as Bucky’s torso and pecs and arms were revealed. His skin was marred in places, scars where his metal arm joined his shoulder. His skin wasn’t smooth and he had a light dusting of hair on his chest and leading down to his groin.

In his strength he was beautiful, and Steve thought  _ I love him, he whose beauty tells a story and a history, he who shares it with me.  _

When Bucky was fully naked, he huffed fondly at Steve and began helping him undress.

“I was too busy looking at you,” Steve answered the unsaid question.

“You’re a dork,” Bucky murmured and unbuckled Steve’s belt.

He traced his hands reverently over each piece of Steve’s skin as he undressed. His hands were gentle despite the roughness and calluses of his fingers. He treated Steve like a gift, something to be treasured and loved and Steve hoped his own touch relayed the same message. They fell into bed entangled, multiple points of contact between them. Always touching. Lips, hands, skin. 

Their bodies moved like they always did together, in sync like they were one. Sweat slicked skin moving together, and endless loop of pleasure engulfing them. As the sun began to lower in the sky, they spoke their love through caresses and murmured words to each other’s lips. 

At the peak of pleasure, they panted into each other’s mouths, moving desperately and when they crested over that hill, they gripped each other tight through it. 

Afterwards, they lay on their sides and stared into each other’s eyes, newly ringed hands gripped tight together. 

Bucky brought Steve’s hand up to his mouth and kissed over his wedding ring. He smiled. “This is the second best day of my life.”

“What’s the first?” Steve spoke softly.

“The day we first met, when you walked into the room where I was preparing centrepieces at the bouquet,” Bucky said. “I knew who you were, but you didn’t know who I was and I wasn’t sure what to say. I just hoped we’d meet again. Knowing we’ve been disconnected at times throughout history, it only made sense that we would meet again.”

“Every moment led to this one,” Steve said.

“And here we are.”

With the joy of that moment, Steve kissed him and kissed and kissed him. 

They took their first walk with Sheppy as husbands after and on the way back they grabbed takeout for dinner. They sat on the front steps of the shop and ate, bundled in thick sweaters and scarves, enjoying the last breeze of fall. Though it was cool, the sun was bright as it set, painting the surroundings in beautiful warm oranges and reds.

The neighbourhood was still alive. Some of the shops around them were still open. People were taking walks. Children were playing and goofing around, greeting Bucky and Steve with loud hellos when they passed by. 

Sheppy lay beside them, watching the goings of the world with a half interested gaze. Like dorks in love, Steve and Bucky fed each other little bites of food, cheeks flushed and smiles on their faces. Tomorrow, Steve would go to teach his art class while Bucky ran the shop until it closed in the afternoon. He didn’t know what plans they had for the rest of the weekend, but he knew they would spend every morning together, no matter how the rest of their days diverged. 

But Steve didn’t even think he would be able to go to sleep tonight, the excitement of their marriage and the rest of their lives together in his every thought. The thought made him remember a quote from Dr. Seuss: 

_ "You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams." _

All those times he had imagined a life of retirement, all the times he’d imagined being able to kiss Bucky and hold him, all those dreams were nothing compared to the real thing now. The solid weight of Bucky against his side, their lips when they pressed against each other, the happy crinkles at the corners of Bucky’s eyes, nothing could compare. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight,” Steve said and wrapped his arm around Bucky, pulling closer to his warmth. 

“Me too,” Bucky replied and kissed the corner of Steve’s mouth. “But it’s okay, they're just more moments we can spend together.”

And Steve smiled, heart full of a happiness and love that made him glow in the evening light. 

**Art by fadefilter**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading to the end!
> 
> [I'm on twitter!](https://twitter.com/bleuett_)


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